Singularity
by Eris R. Lebeau
Summary: Singularity. She turns the word over in her mind, wondering if it translated correctly. A strange word, but it feels appropriate. Crichton's knowledge makes him unique, and once again, it leaves her feeling so distanced she might as well be alone.
1. Without the Extra Word

* * *

**Author's Note: **This story is a sequel to "Continuity," beginning where that story left off. If you would like to begin reading this story, I suggest reading Continuity first, or at least reading the 1600 word "Continuity Recap". Both are posted here and can be found by looking at the story list on my profile page.

* * *

"Did you ever want a little sister, Talyn?" Ceredin's voice carries through Moya's docking bay, cutting through the noise the DRDs make as they help Talyn with his new project-- salvaging a Scarran stryker he snurched from the research station wreckage.

He cranes his neck back, curious which instance of her-- hologram or bioloid-- has come to see him. As it turns out, she's here in the biomechanoid flesh, twirling a lock of yellow hair around one finger and then chewing on the end of it. Even without their transponder link or his ability to read heat signatures, he could tell she's nervous about something.

"Not particularly." He fumbles at his side until he finds the wrench he needs and then makes a renewed assault on a stubborn nut. "Why?"

"Why do you think? Because Moya's pregnant, that's why."

Talyn drops the wrench, sits up, and scrapes his forehead on the protruding nut. The jolt of pain and its accompanying perceived flash of light serve as a testament the quality of his sensory processing algorithms. He drags himself from under the stryker and claps a hand to his forehead. When he lowers the hand, it's covered in synthetic blood and sterile electrolytic fluid.

"Frell, Cer! You couldn't wait till I was out in the open to tell me?"

"Hm. I assumed you'd want to know this cycle." She glares from the stryker to the wound on his head and shakes her head in disgust. "You've been living under there. If I'd waited for you to come out on your own, your little sister might have been full grown."

He leans back against the stryker, not trusting his awkward limbs to hold him. For the most part, he's adjusted to his new existence, but between the pain and the news, his head is reeling. "How come she told you first?" he wonders out loud.

"First? Hardly!" Ceredin puts her back to the stryker as well and leans back on her elbows. "Gemmi first, since she's been altering the specs and monitoring the development, then Bialar, because he followed her into Moya's reproductive chamber. Then-- oh, you'll love this!-- the instance of me on Moya, because they needed her help regulating energy flow to the baby. Next, Crichton found out from Pilot, and he told Aeryn--"

"Wait!" Talyn holds up a hand to slow her down. "Didn't you synch with your instance on Moya?"

"Yes! The frelling drannit of a program found a way to hide it from me! Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to be lied to by yourself?"

"Can't say I do." He chuckles in spite of himself, but his amusement is soon swallowed by the anxiety Ceredin radiates through her aura and via the link. "What are you not telling me?"

She finds one of his hands and laces her fingers through his. "Talyn, she's a hybrid."

"Bialar." He says the name like a curse. For a microt, he sees only a red haze. His hand contracts around Ceredin's and her yelp of pain brings him back to reality. "He didn't. He couldn't..."

"You're right! It wasn't his idea! There's nothing for you to be angry about. It was Moya's idea. She thought Gemmi could optimize Bialar and Velorek's previous work--"

"You mean me. She thought Gemmi could optimize _me_ and then maybe she'd get it right this time." He brings a fist down on the stryker hard enough to leave a dent.

"I wish you didn't look at it that way." Ceredin turns to face him and clasps her hands behind his neck, her eyes locked with his.

"How else would I look at it?"

"I-- I don't know." She shakes her head.

"No, really? How else would I think about it? I was Bialar's big project, Moya's only offspring, and the biggest frell-up in history, but that's ok, because they get a do-over. I was just the-- what's Crichton's frelling word?-- the breeder version?"

"Beta version," she supplies.

He pulls her close to him and closes his eyes, reading her heat signature with his whole body and taking comfort in what he finds there. "Thanks for not telling me I should be happy for her."

"Hm. Clearly, I don't need to." She stands on her tip-toes to rub her cheek against his and whispers in his ear. "The baby's name is 'Mina'. Does that help?"

He shrugs. "Why would it?"

"Never mind. I give up! I'll leave you to your infinite frelling loop of self-pity." She starts to pull away, but he locks his arms around her.

"Mina," he repeats. He kisses the top of Ceredin's head and smiles. "I guess having something to call her... It does help."

With her cheek pressed against his chest, Ceredin nods, running a hand up and down his arm as she does. "I thought it would."

Ignoring the subtle heat changes in her aura, he takes her by the shoulders and pushes her out to arms' length. "Can I go see her?"

"I'd think so." Ceredin shrugs and sighs, not bothering to hide her disappointment, which reverberates through the link like a scream. "Gemmi and Bialar have been mucking around in there for weekens now, so I assume it's safe. Do you want me to come with you?"

"Of course!" He loops his arm through one of hers and walks toward the docking bay doors.

"Oh, don't be surprised I asked. With how you push me away every chance you get, I have to wonder..."

He looks straight ahead, not wanting to explain how he's afraid of what he'll do if he lets her get too close. Ever since Gemmi fixed his sensory processing, things have been different. Touching Ceredin fills him with thoughts that border on impulses. Her kisses are like fingers hovering over a switch that will turn off his rational mind. If he lets her put him in that kind of mental state, he'll take what he wants without caring whether or not he hurts her in the process. Gemmi calls it "suboptimal impulse control". Crichton would probably call it an insect. Talyn doesn't care what it's called, only about protecting Ceredin from himself.

He disengages his arm from hers, catches one of her hands, and brings it briefly to his lips. "I do love you, Cer."

"Hm. Try it without the extra word next time."


	2. It's Still True

When Bialar steps through the open airlock, Mina greets him with a simple flicker of her ambient lighting, the equivalent of a polite nod, or perhaps just a glance. If Gemmi were the one arriving, there would be beeps and complex flashes from Mina's instrument displays, a veritable fanfare of sound and light. Still, he greets the developing hybrid by caressing the wall with the back of his hand, having resolved to overcome her ambivalence.

He cannot blame her for sharing her mother's distrust of him; after all, her patterns are still being shaped mostly by Moya's template rather than her own limited experience or her transponder link with Gemmi. In time, Mina will see that he wishes only for her to realize her full potential. Perhaps she will even learn to accept his guidance as well as, or even in lieu of, Gemmi's.

For now, Bialar readily admits that his mate makes a better companion for the hybrid than he would. He leans against the side of the airlock's inner seal and watches with a smile as she fiddles with one of Mina's consoles, humming a soothing, minor melody. From Gemmi, the Leviathan will learn patience and problem solving, and if she develops a tendency to emotional attachment too, well, there are worse faults.

He had thought that decisiveness would be necessary in a warship, and that a strong will would be a vital asset. Allowing Talyn to use Bialar himself as a template had seemed the epitome of logic at the time; what more perfect melding than that of a Peacekeeper captain with a living weapon? The result, of course, was a stubborn, impulsive gunship with the mind of a disgruntled adolescent and just enough of a conscience to be driven insane by the consequences of his actions. Perhaps if Talyn had been older when they first linked...

He shakes his head to snap that line of speculation. Regret is a form of foolishness in which he never indulges. Talyn's consciousness has found an appropriate vessel, and the result is a young man he would be proud to call his own son. Linked with Gemmi, Mina will have a chance to develop a mind that combines the gentleness of a Leviathan with the dispassionate curiosity of a Kalish technician, and if she absorbs some of Gemmi's docility as well, all the better.

A few strides take him across Mina's command deck. He stands behind Gemmi, puts his hands on her hips, and turns her around to face him.

"Bialar!" She greets him with a smile and kiss that takes the sting out of Mina's indifference. "I was wondering how long you were going to stand there watching me."

"I was simply musing that Mina is fortunate to have you watching over her." He smooths a strand of copper hair away from Gemmi's forehead and runs a finger down her cheek.

"The changes you made to her external development-- the camouflage of her weapons, I mean-- they're successful?" Gemmi bites her lip, and her hands squeeze down on his forearms in anticipation of the answer.

"I believe so. Not enough to fool a detailed sensor sweep, but to a first approximation, she should appear as a standard Leviathan when not in combat mode."

"Good!" Gemmi leans back on the console, going slack with relief. "I don't want anyone picking fights with her, especially not until she's ready to defend herself."

"Danger will be Mina's reality, as it is ours," Bialar reminds her.

"Still, we _will_ find a way to protect her. She's our project."

_We. Our. _He feels his lips curve into a wry smile as he repeats those words in his mind, trying to recall where along the way he lost his autonomy and exactly when it ceased to bother him that he had. Until recently, he could use his transponder link with Gemmi to compel her, but she found a way around that, not content with his assurances that he cared for her interests as much as his own. He still has ways to prove that Gemmi belongs to him, they just all involve being in the same room with her.

He takes her by the shoulders, turns her so she faces away from him, and then runs a hand down her torso until he finds the clasp on her pants. When she reaches to help him, he balances his weight on one foot and uses the other to sweep her feet out from under her, forcing her to catch herself by putting both hands on the console. Her legs entangled with his, her arms taught with the effort of holding herself up, she is completely at his mercy, and the rapidly flickering images she sends through the link tell him that this is exactly where she wants to be. He squeezes her with one arm and uses the other hand to undo a button on her blouse, pressing his body against hers as he does.

She twists at the waist and turns her head enough that he can reach her mouth with his. Changing his mind about how he wants her, he grips her upper arms and turns her around again. Because she had been balancing on her hands with him leaning against her, she now falls back against the console, toppling him as well.

"Careful!" she screams the word both out loud and through the link.

"Have I hurt you?" He props himself up on the heels of his hands and surveys her for any signs of damage.

She shakes her head emphatically. "No. It's Mina-- she thinks you're attacking me."

"Mina is very perceptive." He smiles, wedging one of his legs between Gemmi's and lowering himself to kiss her again.

_It's not funny! Look behind you. And up. _Gemmi's mental warning is accompanied by a bolt of fear.

He stands and cranes his neck upward to see the barrels of all of Mina's internal guns pointed in his direction. "I thought you said she would not develop lethal capabilities in her first cycle!"

Gemmi throws up her hands and then lets them fall. "She hasn't, exactly. Each one of those will fire a weak EMP. Individually, they're stun weapons, but together, the effect is harder to calculate, especially on a bioloid. One or two blasts, you could survive, even if they were simultaneous, but all of them..."

"Are we, uh, interrupting?" Talyn's voice comes from the open airlock.

Bialar looks across the room to see Talyn and Ceredin share a look of amusement mingled with disgust. Talyn rolls his eyes and Ceredin wrinkles her nose.

"No!" Gemmi stands up and refastens the button on her blouse, flushing furiously. "We were testing Mina's internal defenses, which work fine, actually. They seem to be keyed in to my own autonomics, hear rate, respiration rate, that sort of thing."

"I'd hardly call that--" Bialar gestures to the set of weapons aimed at him "--'working fine!' I suggest you make some alterations to her neural net, or have Ceredin do so."

"Speaking of whom..." Ceredin folds her arms across her chest and thrusts out her chin. "Is she here?"

"She?" Gemmi repeats.

"That holographic drannit!" Ceredin replies. "She kept this from me! From _me! _I found out from Chiana!"

"So I respected Moya's wishes." The holographic form of Ceredin appears over one of the consoles, mimicking the bioloid's posture exactly. "You would have done the same."

"Oh, no! I wouldn't have lied to you about something like this. Clearly, our networks have diverged; yours degenerated." The bioloid crosses the room and stands a hand's breadth from her spectral counterpart. "Don't think I wouldn't reprogram you..."

"Lied? So melodramatic! I was honest, just not candid. You're smart enough to know the difference. Unless you're the one who's degenerated." The hologram raises an eyebrow in Gemmi's direction. "Have you checked her neural net lately?"

Gemmi sinks back against the console and cradles her forehead in her hands.

Bialar makes a move toward her in order to place an arm around her shoulders, but Mina's weapons follow him like the eyes of a predator. The two Ceredins are now exchanging insults comprised of Kalish, Sebacean, Nebari, Luxan, Hynerian and Human curses intermingled with programming jargon. Not particularly interested in what holographic Ceredin's cell arrays can do with a Hynerian donkey, he crosses the room and claps Talyn on the shoulder.

"Would you like to see Mina's exterior?"

"Yeah." He frowns and waves a hand to indicate Gemmi and the Ceredins, including Mina's guns in the gesture. "Will they be ok in here?"

"Probably." Bialar exits the airlock, dragging Talyn with him.

As they walk in a circuit around the unborn Leviathan, Talyn keeps a hand on the hull. He glances often at Bialar, a look of wonder on his face. His dark eyes have a thick sheen of emotion, and his voice catches as he says, "I can read her aura. I think she recognizes me."

"And she likes you?" Bialar asks warily.

Talyn nods. "She has so many questions..." He closes his eyes, puts both hands on Mina, and leans against her. "I can't really speak to her, not with this body. I can't fine-tune my infrared radiation, so it's like trying to talk with your mouth closed. She wants me to... Frell, she wants me to talk to her like Gemmi does."

Bialar winces. "At this stage, her mind is still fragile--"

"I know," Talyn interrupts. "If I linked with her, she could take some of my patterns. I'd be a bad influence."

"I didn't say that."

"It's still true." Talyn shrugs. "How long until she's born?"

"Five, maybe six solar days."

"Frell. Barely enough time to finish the stryker." Seeing Bialar's puzzled look, he explains, "Moya won't be able to starburst with Mina in tow, and Mina won't be combat ready at first. So that means we'll need something to protect them both. Aeryn has the prowler, D'Argo's got Lola, and I'll have the stryker. Cer can pilot any of the ships if she has to. Mina won't be unguarded for a microt."

"Very good." Bialar smiles and briefly squeezes Talyn's shoulder.

Talyn shrugs again and averts his eyes, embarrassed by the praise. "Tactical AI-- you put it there. Besides; Mina's my sister."


	3. Dubious Logic

Despite being from a scaled-down subclass of Scarran strykers, the warship fills Moya's hanger to capacity, its pronged nose nearly touching the aft wall. Its thrusters extend on either side of it like spread wings, giving it the rather depressing appearance of a caged bird of prey. Near the tail, Talyn is lecturing in Pilot's language to a team of DRDs, who nod their antenni in agreement before zooming off to do their respective jobs.

Talyn leans against one of the styker's rear prongs and grins at Bialar. "Beautiful, isn't it? Makes Aeryn's prowler look like Crichton's module."

His residual Peacekeeper prejudice bristles at that, and he shrugs. "Other than being an example of it, I have little experience with Scarran technology. What are this ship's capabilities?"

"Pulse cannons that could take out a Leviathan hybrid in two, maybe three hits. Some shielding, but not much. It's primary defense is supposedly its speed. My data banks say this thing can outrun Moya's starburst."

"How?" Bialar wonders.

Talyn shrugs. "No idea. As soon as this thing is online, I'm going to link into it and start finding out."

"No. I won't allow you to expose your mind to alien technologies--"

"Worried about me becoming irreversibly contaminated?" Talyn laughs and raises an eyebrow.

"I believe the phrase that applies is 'irretrievably corrupted.' It could have defenses against tampering. Use Ceredin."

Talyn's amusement drains from his eyes. His mouth compresses into a stubborn line, and he folds his arms across his chest. "_Use _Cer? If I weren't linked with you, I'd think you were frelling kidding!"

"Not the biomechanoid girl, the program-- the one Gemmi created specifically for this kind of task. She can dissect the stryker's algorithms systematically."

"The girl in the bioloid _is_ Gemmi's program. I won't risk _any _instance of her AI--"

"Talyn, do not let your attachment to her rob her of her purpose!"

"That sounds like Peacekeeper dren to me, Bialar."

Bialar shrugs. "Ceredin will agree with me."

"Frell."

Coming from Talyn, that monosyllable has a range of meanings, and in this case, Bialar takes it as an acknowledgment of defeat. Using his link to Talyn and Talyn's link to Ceredin's bioloid, he calls out to the pseudo-consciousness. _Ceredin? _

_Yes? _Her response is attenuated by the distance, but clear enough to understand.

_Were you aware that the stryker can can outrun a Leviathan's starburst? _

_Hm! I don't see how. Does Talyn have that thing online yet? _The link reverberates with her excitement and curiosity.

_He will soon. I suggest you be here if you want to be the first to explore its capabilities. _

Talyn has one hand clapped to his forehead and the other clutches at the back of his neck. "I really, really wish you two wouldn't do that! Bad enough you gang up on me, but you have to do it in my own head? If you like Cer that much, why don't you link with her?"

Bialar shakes his head and says, "The current situation is satisfactory," just as Ceredin replies, _One frelling mess is enough, thank you! _

"Happy now?" Talyn asks sourly.

"I am... optimistic," Bialar replies. "Ceredin should be able to compile the stryker's algorithms into Leviathan patterns, as well as find out exactly what physical components of the ship are responsible for its speed. Given her capacity for optimization, she can probably improve upon the design."

"This is about Mina, isn't it? I should have known." Talyn groans. "You're as bad as Gemmi, or worse. You know why Crichton calls her 'Dr. Frankenstein,' don't you?"

"Some reference to Earth literature, I assume. If I questioned every one of Crichton's eccentric quips I'd accomplish nothing."

"Yeah, but I asked him about that one. He explained Dr. Frankenstein was a fictional scientist who made monsters-- things that were better off not being. I guess the whole point is it's dangerous to frell with Nature."

"Talyn!" Bialar chuckles and sighs. "Crichton is from a quaint world, one that clearly hasn't progressed far past planet-centered paganism. Evil sorcerers, or scientists, as the case may be, appear in the mythology of virtually every primitive planet. It's a manifestation of the fear of change, distrust of the unknown."

"I guess." Talyn shrugs. "Just remember your project is my sister, Moya's baby."

"And your sister will be able to outrun a Scarran stryker!" He slaps the wing for emphasis. "Moya will be proud of her."

"Moya will be proud of her if she stays alive," Talyn snaps.

"My point exactly." Bialar reaches up and touches the stryker's pulse cannon, then leaves to share Ceredin's soon-to-be-made discovery with Gemmi.

***

To his surprise, Gemmi is not to be found on Mina's command deck. More astonishing still is the fact that a new door has appeared at the rear of command.

"Well done!" he congratulates the hybrid. "You are developing impressively. Now will you open it for me?"

Lights flicker, accompanied by an unmistakable series of chirps, and Bialar sighs. He does not enjoy being laughed at.

"This is not how Leviathans are supposed to behave," he growls.

The chirps escalate in volume and the lights ripple across her displays and consoles.

"Gemmina!" He shouts her full name.

The electronic laughter stops, but the door still won't open. He pounds on it with a fist, hoping Mina's Kalish namesake will hear the noise. As usual, Gemmi's link with the hybrid has taken precedence over her link with him, which makes the transponder useless in communicating with her.

More laughter, the natural-sounding kind, comes from behind him, and he turns to see Ceredin's hologram manifested above the main command console.

"This... malfunction is hardly funny, Ceredin," he chides her.

"You're right-- it's frelling hilarious!" She wipes insubstantial tears from her spectral eyes. "See? I laughed so hard I cried."

"Just override her and open the door."

"Oh, no!" Ceredin raises both hands, palms out. "Taking away her free will makes her even more irritated than calling her 'Gemmina'. How did you like it when the Scarrans made Gemmi put fail safe code in your head? Hm? I've heard how you reacted when she finally removed it, Bialar. And you want me to override Mina? I thought we were trying _not_ to make another monster." Her eyes go wide and she claps a hand to her mouth. "Oh! Don't tell Talyn I said that, please?"

He nods agreement. "Can you ask her to open the door then?"

"Mm-hm." She closes her eyes for a few microts, making a silent request to which Mina replies with a few uncertain bleeps. After a few more microts, Ceredin twirls a lock of hair around a finger and regards Bialar. "She wants me to promise you won't 'do anything' to Gemmi. She's very worried."

"I have already given Gemmi my word I will not harm her, that should be enough for Mina as well."

"Hm." Ceredin tugs on the lock of hair, tilting her head from side to side. "And by 'harm her,' you mean, 'do something to her she doesn't want you to'. Oh, don't look at me that way, I'm not commenting on your recreation, it's just that that's a bit of an advanced concept for a small neural net to grasp."

"And she defines 'harm,' how, exactly?"

"Numbers, Bialar! Simple minds like numbers. 'Harm' is anything that increases Gemmi's heart rate by a factor of two or more, or increases her respiration rate by a factor of one point five, or results in accelerated production of endorphins--"

"I see." His hands clench in frustration as he eyes Mina's guns. "Very well, she has my word."

"--or anything that causes her link with Gemmi to be severed," Ceredin finishes, smirking. "Aren't you glad I warned you about that one?"

"Just open the door."

"Because that's what you were going to do, isn't it?" She nods in self-congratulation.

"I should not have to justify my actions to a transport!" Bialar snaps. "Especially not when they involve my-- when they involve Gemmi."

"Well, you don't have to justify them to me! I hear enough from Gemmi as it is." Ceredin wrinkles her nose. "I'm just trying to make sure you don't get your biomechanoid brains blown out." She closes her eyes again, and the door slides open.

As he steps across the threshold, he looks over his shoulder and nods to Ceredin. "I appreciate that."

"Yes, Mina, it's perfect!" Gemmi's voice comes from somewhere down a corridor. "Your own idea? Really? I didn't know you could modify your own-- Well, of course I like it! I'm just... surprised, that's all."

The corridor opens into what appears to be a small living chamber, complete with a bunk and food preparation area. A row of pulse guns hangs above the doorway, a biomechanoid honor guard. Hearing his footsteps, Gemmi whirls to face him, but her eyes remain unfocused.

"Mina? I want you to play a strategy game with Ceredin." Gemmi chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Yes, I know she's an awful, gloating winner. That's why you have to concentrate very hard-- so you can beat her this time. Well, don't let her use so much of your processor! Multiple instances? Really? Tell her that's cheating, and I said so."

"This was not part of the original design." Bialar gestures to the room as he sits down on the bunk.

"I know." Gemmi sits down beside him and brings her feet up so she can rest her chin on her knees. "She isn't supposed to have living quarters for another two monens, but she wants me to stay with her after the birth. I explained I had what I needed on Moya, and, well, Mina responded."

"You have Ceredin teaching her tactics already!" Bialar squeezes Gemmi's shoulders briefly and releases her, afraid that if he does any more to show his admiration, Mina will misinterpret his actions.

"They're taking opposite sides in some of Talyn's pre-programmed battle scenarios. It's the only way I can get her to leave me alone for a bit. I can still feel her mind, but it's not as-- not as heavy, somehow, ah, I don't know how to explain..."

"No need." He strokes the back of her neck, tracing the ring of scar tissue surrounding the transponder. "I understand what Talyn would call the consequences of tampering with nature."

"That doesn't sound like Talyn's word choice," Gemmi mutters, smiling.

"It isn't, but it is his sentiment, as if I needed to be reminded of the cost of the hybrid project. He's concerned about the idea of reverse engineering the stryker's propulsion and equipping Mina with it. She would have super-starburst speeds."

Gemmi's eyes light up and her smile broadens. "Offer it to her! She'll want it, I know she will!"

"But if she does not, you can directly modify her specifications, can't you?"

Gemmi shakes her head. "Only the physical specs. As I said before, her mind will stay a pure living consciousness for the first cycle. That's why she's learning tactics from playing with Ceredin instead of being force-fed Talyn's AI."

"'Trying not to make a monster this time,'" Bialar repeats. "Ceredin was quoting you."

Gemmi nods. "I'm sorry. I love Talyn too, you know that--"

Bialar snorts. "Your 'pure living consciousness' threatened to kill me when I tried to recreate with you! You're not going to manually correct that?"

"Of course not! She has to learn things on her own." Gemmi turns to face him and tilts her head, looking particularly Kalish as she frets over the problem. "Maybe..." she bites her lip and tilts her head from side to side. "Yes! This should work."

"What should work?" he asks warily.

Gemmi slides into his lap, wearing a smug expression that was no doubt the template for Ceredin's. "I have the perfect solution! If you stay very, very still, Mina can't possibly think you're attacking me. Then maybe she'll understand what you were trying to do. That you weren't trying to hurt me, I mean."

"Dubious logic, Gemmi." He eyes the guns in the doorway, not daring to move a finger. The iridescent scales on Gemmi's neck have darkened in a way that indicates her heart rate and breathing are probably escalating as well.

"It'll work!" she promises, stroking his cheek. "Besides, I think Mina knows I'd be devastated if anything happened to you!"

He allows his shoulders to flex in the faintest possible shrug. Gemmi's attachment to Mina means she looks at the hybrid and sees a complex being, but Bialar mentally replays Ceredin's assertion: _Simple minds like numbers. _Mina understands ideas that can be translated into variables-- greater than and less than, on and off. It will be monens before she can grasp the idea of "right and wrong," and it will be their job-- his, Gemmi's, and Ceredin's-- to make sure she has nothing to regret once that happens.

"It'll be alright," Gemmi assures him.

She begins undoing the buttons on her blouse with systematic efficiency. Bialar makes a conscious effort to keep his eyes on her and not Mina's internal weaponry. Scales and all, Gemmi is a far more pleasant sight, and besides, he'll be able to hear the mechanical buzz of the guns if they turn to aim at him.


	4. I Believe in Redemption

Once Gemmi has finished taking off her blouse, she stands and moves several steps backwards. Her breasts sway and bounce as she wriggles out of her pants, the iridescent color variations on them glistening. When Bialar had first seen her color variations, he had called them "scales," thinking of them as a deviation that made her somehow less than Sebacean. Looking at her now, he realizes that he has never seen all of her at once, not from enough distance to give a proper perspective, and not for any appreciable length of time. Taken as a whole, the colorful markings are like so many glittering gems, giving her the appearance of a bejeweled dancer.

She hops a few times on one foot, shaking the other in order to get rid of her pants. The stubborn garment refuses to cooperate, and when she takes a step forward, she trips and falls onto her hands and knees. As she drags herself from the floor and back into his lap, he decides that "dancer" is not exactly the appropriate word.

"Stay completely still," she reminds him, her words somewhat slurred and muffled by the fact that his lower lip is between hers. Her hands tangle in his hair, and her legs extend on either side of him.

"This is intolerable!" he hisses into her ear as her cheek rubs against his. His fingers twitch and flex of their own volition with the need to touch her.

Gemmi laughs softly, leans back, and takes one of his hands in both of hers. After kissing his fingertips for several maddening microts, she runs his hand down the front of her body and then drops it on her thigh. Her own hands are now free to unfasten his pants, and when she does, she leans forward and replies, "Intolerable? Really?"

He doesn't have to answer. Through the link, she can see the images flickering through his mind. He wants to finish what he started on Mina's command deck, and the need is building into a Talyn-like impulse. Her eyes widen in surprise when she realizes he is actually contemplating risking Mina's fire, and she scoots forward, giving him what he needs before he can take it. While she moves against him, she takes his hand again, drags it over her breasts, and then puts it into place between her legs. The sudden spike in her sensation resonates through the link, amplifying his pleasure which amplifies hers until they bring the feedback loop to an end by climaxing together.

She disengages from him and then lays back on the bunk. With slow, careful movements, Bialar swings his legs up and lays down beside her so she can take her habitual position, resting her head on his shoulder and draping a leg over both of his. She stretches for a moment, yawning and arching her back before nuzzling sleepily against his chest.

"Yes, that's basically it." Her statement, intermingled with another yawn, comes as a surprise. When she doesn't prompt him for a response, he realizes she must be speaking to Mina. "Because he's not the type of person who likes asking for things," she continues. "Well, yes, he's a biomechanoid, like you. Exchange of genetic information isn't really the point! What? Well, more so, usually, but honestly, he's not trying to hurt me. No, not ever." She shrugs her shoulders. "Yes, I know what he's done. What he's told me, I mean, and what I've seen myself." After a long silence, she whispers, "Because I believe in redemption, Mina."

Bialar strokes Gemmi's hair and closes his eyes. "Do you think she understands now?"

He feels her nod against his chest. "In a way she does. She thinks it's a bit funny that I'm trying to exchange genetic material with a biomechanoid, and she wonders if the process is always so violent with Sebacoids."

"She considers that violent?" He laughs.

"Oh, very! Friction is proportional to normal force, and Leviathan hulls aren't intended to withstand a lot of external friction. Two bodies that massive moving against each other? It would be rather damaging. Then there's the torque issue-- torque depends on lever arm, which isn't a problem with you, but when you consider the length of a Leviathan's--"

"I understand the mechanics of scale," he interrupts. "But will she try to defend you again if she thinks you're being subjected to too much torque and friction?"

"She understands I don't need defending from you, Bialar. Now if I can just get her to stop giggling in my head and making jokes about DRDs..." Gemmi stretches again and sighs.

"She equates me with a DRD?" Bialar demands, glancing down the length of his convincingly Sebacean-looking body.

"She's only trying to be funny!"

"And failing." He snorts, then goes back to fingering Gemmi's hair. "She's sophisticated enough to have a sense of humor-- do you think she understood what you said about believing in redemption?"

"No." Gemmi props herself up on an elbow, looks him in the eyes, and shakes her head. "I think neural nets a lot more developed than hers have trouble believing. But I didn't say it just for her."

He looks up at Gemmi and wonders how much she knows of his intentions for Mina. Her faith in his "redemption" would mean significantly more if she approved of his plans, but he cannot bring himself to risk losing her by telling her. In many ways, he is a different man than the one who began the hybrid project; he is now driven by conviction rather than ambition, and the acquisition of power has become a mere means to a just end. Even so, his resolve remains as strong as ever; he is still Peacekeeper enough to take what he needs.

***

In her quarters on Moya, Aeryn awakes to the feel of a finger on her back. The finger is tracing the shapes of cryptic Human symbols, a few of which she recognizes, having felt them before during Cricthton's odd spells. The sharp jags of a summation are followed by the line and dot of a factorial.

As he begins tracing the a long, sinuous integration symbol, she sits up and snatches his wrist. "I thought you said this would stop."

"I can't, Aeryn. I try, but then something always gets me thinking... It's there, right there, like the words of a song that's playin' in your head or the face of a guy that you know you remember from somewhere."

She shrugs, not understanding. "I thought you didn't believe anyone should have the power that comes with understanding wormholes, and yet all I see is you trying to discover that knowledge yourself. All this scribbling in journals, writing on my frelling back--"

"It's not about power."

"Then what is it about? Pride? Winning some game with the Ancients? Proving yourself?"

"No. Yeah, Maybe. I don't know." He stands and begins pacing, completely oblivious to the fact he isn't wearing any clothes. "I think--" He reaches for one of his journals and a pen and sits down on the bunk. As he flips through the pages, he looks up and meets her eyes. "Moya's starburst, Talyn's stryker, wormholes, they're all different types of singularity."

"If you say so." She throws on her clothing and leaves, wanting to be anywhere he isn't. She hates seeing him like this.

"There's a set of unifying equations!" he calls to know one in particular.

_Singularity. _She turns the word over in her mind, wondering if it translated correctly. A strange word, but it feels appropriate. Crichton's knowledge makes him unique, and once again, it leaves her feeling so distanced she might as well be alone.


	5. Seeking Convergence

On the terrace, Aeryn finds Ceredin-- the bioloid version of her-- sitting cross-legged with her elbows on her knees, staring at the stars and abusing a lock of bright yellow hair by repeatedly winding it around her index finger. Aeryn almost turns to leave, but after lifting her foot, she decides she's too stubborn to be chased off and moves forward instead.

She sits down beside Ceredin and leans back on the heels of her hands. After perhaps a macrot of silence, the bioloid tilts her head and regards Aeryn with a mixture of sadness and curiosity. "Do you have nightmares, Aeryn?"

"Sometimes."

"Everyone linked to me does," Ceredin continues. "I don't-- I'm not complex enough to dream. But during sleep cycle it comes through the links. The barriers they put up are gone, and it all just... bleeds."

"Couldn't you just remove the transponder?" Aeryn wonders.

"Hm." She fingers her neck for a moment, then shakes her head. "It's not that easy to break connections."

"It should be!" The words come out more forcefully than she intended them, and she adds in a softer tone, "If I could be done with something by pulling a cord or flipping a switch... I don't know why you want to be one of us, Ceredin. I used to be like you, and I miss it."

"Like me? I doubt that." Ceredin smiles and shakes her head.

"Like you." Aeryn nods slowly. "Exactly like you-- a mind comprised of instructions, simple rules to follow. I existed for a purpose, and I always had someone to tell me what that purpose was."

"No, I've always been a psuedo-consciousness. That sounds more like a program." Ceredin sweeps her eyes over Aeryn. "I don't believe you were ever just a program."

"You're probably right." She never had quite fit in, there had always been that something wrong, that weakness. Velorek saw it, then Crichton, and it's only grown worse to the point where now a frelling machine can see it.

"Why aren't you with Crichton?" Ceredin blurts. Aeryn opens her mouth to reply, but Ceredin continues, "Oh, I know it's not my business. It's just... if I had someone with me when I woke up from the nightmares, I wouldn't be up here. Alone. Or with someone else who feels alone."

"I thought you and Talyn--" Aeryn begins.

"No. We're not together that way. Talyn is reevaluating the weights on his neural net, seeking convergence, or at least a bounded solution. Oh, that didn't make any sense to you, did it? He's... at war with himself."

"I understand." Aeryn sees her own frustration mirrored in the bioloid's impossibly blue eyes and wonders why the hezmana Gemmina programmed her AI to feel this way. As if there weren't enough pain in the universe before. Of its own volition, her hand drifts to her abdomen, and she wonders if all acts of creation always result in more suffering than good.

"Hm. I think you do," Ceredin agrees. "That must be why you're keeping it in stasis."

"How did you--"

"Talyn taught me to read heat signatures. It has its own weak aura superimposed on yours. Kind of like how Mina looks from outside Moya, but static. Frozen."

Those last two words bite like the fangs of a viper, injecting burning venom into the soft, aching places in Aeryn's mind. She ignores them and decides to turn the conversation in a more productive direction. "Singularity-- does that mean anything to you?"

"Oh! You're wanting to understand the stryker's propulsion system?" Ceredin raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Talyn and I just worked it out today, not that we understand all of it completely--"

"Not me." Aeryn raises a hand, cutting her off. "Crichton. He's been scribbling again. He was talking to Talyn earlier. That must be what triggered it."

"Interesting!" Ceredin tugs several times on the lock of hair and tilts her head from side to side.

"He's trying to wreck everything we fought for, Ceredin! The other John, Bialar, Talyn-- frell, one of your instances!-- all dead because he said no one should have the power he's now trying to get. And all you can say is 'interesting'?"

"And you're suggesting..." Ceredin puts the lock of hair in her mouth and regards Aeryn with an expectant expression.

"I'm suggesting he's fahrbot." Aeryn sits up and folds her arms across her chest.

"Hm. I see you're not programmed to make decisions either."

"Not unless they involve shooting things," Aeryn mutters.

"Sometimes that's the optimal solution." Ceredin says that around a mouthful of hair so the words come out wetly slurred.

"I'm not shooting Crichton."

"Good! It would be a waste. The solution is there, and someone's going to find it. The advancement of technology is inevitable."

"You may be right," Aeryn admits. "But for now, can you and Talyn just keep your calculations to yourselves and stop giving Crichton ideas?"

"I suppose. It's a shame, because he really is a good colleague..." Ceredin sighs and nods. "I'll tell Talyn. And Gemmi and Bialar as well."

"Thank you." Aeryn stands and takes two steps toward the exit.

"Aeryn?" Ceredin calls.

She stops and looks over her shoulder. "Yes?"

"I don't blame you for keeping it in stasis. With so many dangers... I'd be afraid too."

She doesn't answer. As she makes her way back to her quarters, her hand flutters to her abdomen again, and she whispers, "I'm not frelling _afraid._ I'm just sane."

And her sanity is keeping a living consciousness static and frozen. Paralyzed. She leans in the doorway of her room and watches Crichton as he scribbles, lost in a glassy-eyed trance. Maybe she is afraid. Maybe she just doesn't want to have to explain to some child that this intense, half-coherent man with the ink-stained hands is its father.

If only that were the worst of her fears.


	6. Leading to Resonance

"I thought I locked my door," Talyn mutters after opening his eyes to the sight of Ceredin's face frowning down at his. His head is resting in her lap, and one of her hands combs repetitively through his hair. Her thighs feel soft and pleasantly warm through the thin fabric of the shift she's wearing.

Ceredin shrugs. "Moya let me in. I didn't want to be alone."

He stands up, crosses the room, and leans against the far wall. "You're never alone, Cer. We're linked, just like Gemmi and Bialar. We're closer than they are! You've been through-- how did you put it?-- every reason-forsaken line of my source code. I've given you my heat signature interpretation function and my flight AI--"

"When I woke up from Gemmi's nightmare, I was alone, Talyn. So _don't_ tell me how _close _we are."

"Look, when you said I shouldn't have taken the sensory processing algorithms from the Scorpius clone--"

"I never said you shouldn't have!" Ceredin shakes her head. "I said I wouldn't have asked you to--"

"Whatever. You were right. I feel things the same way a Sebacean does now, but that ability came at a cost. Now when you touch me, when you get too close for too long, I'm afraid I'll lose control. I don't want to be a prisoner of impulses."

"So you make yourself a prisoner of the need to control them?" She folds her arms across her chest and raises an eyebrow.

"It's the price of owning myself. At least I'm choosing my own chains."

"Hm." Her aura flickers hot and cold. She looks like she wants to hit him. "I say frell that. But I didn't come here to talk about your bout of insanity. I promised Aeryn that we'd leave Crichton out of the stryker project."

"What? Why? He knows things that could help us!"

"He doesn't 'know' things, exactly. The data is there in his brain, but it's encrypted and he can't access it. He's going fahrbot trying. You of all people should understand what it means to fight a battle in your own head. When you told him what we found out about how the stryker's propulsion works, it set him off again. He's in his obsessive mode."

"Dren." Talyn pounds his thigh with a fist in frustration. "I didn't mean to hurt him. Or Aeryn."

"You didn't." Ceredin sighs, and her expression softens into one of sympathy. "The ancients did this to him. If I could find that reason-forsaken data and rip it out of his head, I--"

"Why can't you?" Talyn interrupts, suddenly grinning.

"Because we're not..." She laughs and claps her hands together. "You're right. There's no reason I couldn't try. We just have to get the DRDs to make another transponder. You're frelling brilliant, Talyn."

"If it works." He shrugs. "The primary link should be with me. I spent enough time poking around in Bialar's head that I should be able to locate the data without too much trouble. Then you can try to erase it without wiping the rest of him. Assuming he even agrees to the risk."

Ceredin shakes her head. "No. Assuming _Aeryn _agrees. I don't trust Crichton to make decisions for himself, not in the state he's in. I do trust Aeryn."

"To decide whether or not we get to frell around in his head?"

"Aeryn is, as you might say, a chain he's chosen. The ancients aren't. Harvey isn't. She deserves to watch over him more than they do."

"Harvey," Talyn repeats, feeling suddenly dizzy.

He swallows and looks away from Ceredin, not wanting her to see the fear in his eyes. In his original form, he hadn't been afraid of anything; enemies had only made him angry, and the rage never lasted longer than it took to blow them to pieces. Even now, there's not much that scares him, since his bioloid body is tough and his consciousness is backed up on a datachip. No one can really destroy him, but Scorpius was able to do something worse. By installing a malevolent clone of his own consciousness on Talyn's transponder, Scorpius had rendered Talyn a prisoner in his own body. Talyn had watched, helpless, while the clone used his body to attack Gemmi in order to exact revenge on Bialar.

"Talyn..." Ceredin crosses the room and takes his chin in her hand. "Talyn, look at me. Listen to me! Harvey is a beta version. He's nowhere near as strong as the Scorpius clone, and even if he were, you beat that one. You stopped him."

"Not in time. You couldn't read heat signatures then, Cer. You couldn't see all the damage he did to Gemmi, only what was visible on the outside. I-- I didn't just see it. I was part of it."

"Oh." Ceredin's eyes widen and then mist over. "Oh, I'm such a stupid drannit! That's why, isn't it? That's why you're afraid you'll hurt me."

He doesn't answer out loud; he just holds her, stroking her back and letting her read him through the link.

_Talyn, if you don't think you can face Harvey, I can do it myself, _she offers.

"No. We'll do it together. You're right. He's just a beta version anyway."

That must strike some sort of chord with Ceredin, because her aura warms, and she squeezes his waist, standing on her tip toes to kiss his lips. Before he can push her away, she disengages herself and backs into the doorway.

"For what it's worth, Talyn, I'm not afraid of you. And I really have been through _every _reason-forsaken line of your source code. Oh, I don't expect you to have an answer for that, not one I'd like anyway. I'm going to find Aeryn." She pivots and leaves the room.

Talyn leans his head out the doorway and watches her disappear down the corridor, moving with the efficient grace of the Peacekeeper who provided the template for her locomotion algorithms. He wants to call her back to his room, wants to press her close enough to read her aura with his whole body, but he can only see that leading to resonance and a complete loss of control.


	7. Yet Another Reminder

Sikozu's fingers go still on the touch pad of the transport's console. She can tell by the radiant heat of his body that Scorpius has come to stand behind her, looking over her head at the screen, and it irks her. She spent most of the past two weekens learning bioloid code and the better part of three solar days analyzing this program. Even with all of her careful study, she is unsure if what she has done will work. Being uncertain of her own success is distasteful enough, but having an audience for this precarious experiment is maddening.

"If you hope to see this completed in any reasonable amount of time, I suggest you allow me to concentrate," she snaps.

"I thought you said it was ready."

"Ready to test! There may be adjustments to perform." She twists in her seat and shoots him a pleading look. "Altering an existing pseudo-consciousness is not as simple as constructing a neural clone!"

"Surely Gemmina's program will not prove an insurmountable challenge for you?" His voice rises almost imperceptibly, making his statement into a question of her intellect.

"No, of course not!" She hates the childish sound of her retort and coolly adds, "You should understand that dealing with lesser minds often poses a surprisingly formidable challenge. If Gemmina's work were entirely systematic, I could predict the effects of my alterations exactly. It's the uncontrolled elements of the neural net that make it so frelling--"

"Useful to us," Scorpius finishes with a smile.

"I suppose." She taps her fingers on the console in a show of impatience.

Taking the hint, Scorpius opens a trap door in the floor of the transport and goes into the tiny cargo hold, leaving her alone with the console.

Sikozu enters a sequence on the touch pad and a blond, holographic Sebacean appears above the console, stretching ostentatiously as if awakened from a prolonged nap. Sikozu greets her with a name.

"Mari."

"What about her?" the hologram tilts her head and regards Sikozu with guarded curiosity.

"Also known as subject 63. She was a Peacekeeper soldier who was tortured to death during the data collection process so that the Scarrans could have a bioloid spy made in her likeness. She was only twenty cycles old, but because of her marksmanship, she was assigned to guard duty for a powerful Peacekeeper. You chose her appearance, voice, and movements because you thought she had pretty hair."

"I know who she was!" the hologram flushes with what might be anger, shame, or both. Her hand flutters to her hair where she begins to twirl it around her finger in an irritating nervous habit. After a few tugs on the lock of hair, she brings the golden strands in front of her face, grimaces, and drops them. Her fingers clutch at her skirt as if she can't stand the feel of empty hands, though of course the hologram has no hands and no feeling, only a set of programmed responses to stimuli. "I just don't know why you want to talk about her."

"I don't, particularly." Sikozu shrugs. "But I think I will call you 'Mari,' from now on. It will serve as a reminder of the necessity of our work."

"Hm. I suppose it's only fair that I remember. And by 'our work' you mean..."

"For now, I mean apprehending two individuals vital to the cause. I trust that you will do whatever I require you to in order to--"

"The cause?" Mari asks around a mouthful of insubstantial curls.

"The destruction of the Scarran empire, although that is merely a means to ensuring Kalish freedom from oppression."

"Hm. And these two individuals are..."

Sikozu sighs in frustration. "Must you ask so frelling many questions?"

"I'm programmed to. You believed I would function more effectively if I constantly seek out useful information instead of waiting for information to be delivered."

"That..." Sikozu takes a deep breath and swallows as if forcing an unpleasant idea down her own throat. "... is probably true. Your programmer does show some impressive insight on occasion."

"She also shows a less than impressive ability to evade my questions." Mari grins. "Who are the two individuals and why do we need them?"

"The first is a member of a previously-unknown species. His name is John Crichton, and Scorpius and I believe we can recover the secrets of wormhole weapons from his brain with your help."

"Hm. A logical military target. And the second individual?"

Sikozu runs her tongue over her lips. _For reason's sake, let this not trigger a regression! _"The second person is a technician named Gemmina Delonik."

"Which means nothing to me. Does she also have weapons expertise?"

"Not exactly. But she could be useful in the extraction effort."

Mari tilts her head to one side, then the other. "There's something you're not telling me."

"True," Sikozu agrees. "I'm entitled to my privacy."

"Of course." Mari shrugs. "But then again, the quality of assistance I can provide is only as good as the quality of information I am provided."

"For now, I need you to monitor the Scarran communications. My operative is a junior security technician named Veena Zenaan. When she reports finding a 'negligible anomaly in sensor scan readings,' start heading the transport in the direction she gives."

"Why is she reporting anything to her superiors at all? Why not have her use a code phrase like, oh, I don't know, 'fellip berry jam'?"

"Because I wish to keep her as an operative, Mari. By reporting the 'negligible anomaly' she maintains both the illusion of honesty and the perception of competence. If anyone else later realizes what she found, they will blame themselves for assuming her report was nothing more than the enthusiasm of an over-eager junior tech."

"Oh!" Mari claps her hands. "You're frelling brilliant!"

"That's correct," Sikozu agrees. "I'm taking your user interface offline now."

"Oh." Mari glances down at her holographic boots and then gives Sikozu a hurt, puzzled look. "You used to keep me online for company. I remember--"

"Mari..." Sikozu regards the hologram with as much patience as she can muster, her mind racing in search of a satisfying explanation. "You must know something-- the transport was damaged recently, and there are some concerns with the portions of the data spools containing your memory. I did what I could for you, but there may be problems."

"I see."

Sikozu enters another sequence on the keypad and the hologram disappears. Feeling both drained and elated, she opens the trapdoor and slides down to join Scorpius, who lays on the narrow bunk in their shared sleeping quarters, eyes closed in meditation.

Without opening his eyes, he asks, "Was it successful?"

"Yes."

"So she suspects nothing and has accepted that you are her original programmer?" Scorpius smiles, looking so pleased with Sikozu that it pains her to disappoint him.

"Well, she does suspect there are things I am not telling her. However, it shouldn't be a problem."

Scorpius sits up, his eyes wide open and suddenly locked with hers. He seizes her upper arm and growls, "_Crichton_ shouldn't have been a problem! I cannot have the outcome of my actions depending on what _shouldn't_ be."

"It shouldn't be a problem," she repeats, "because I am hiding something harmless from her. I failed to tell her about your increasing dependence on cooling rods. If she discovers that my reasons for recovering Gemmina Delonik are as much personal as political, she will believe that's what I've been hiding."

"Very good." His face relaxes into an approving smile. He grabs Sikozu's shoulder with his free hand and grips her arm even more tightly with the other, pulling her close for a congratulatory kiss that quickly becomes something more. Heat ripples visibly from his body. If she were a Kalish, she would be in agony, and if she were Sebacean, she would be downright ill. Being a bioloid, she is merely concerned.

"Don't!" she protests, but it's too late.

The hand on her shoulder convulses and his grip weakens until his arm falls to his side. Above his slack, twitching mouth, his eyes burn with a rage born of helplessness. Without saying a word, Sikozu replaces his cooling rod and returns to the upper portion of the transport.

She could turn on the hologram for company, of course, but she doesn't feel the need to spill her troubles into a sympathetic auditory detector. As always, instead of attempting to distract herself from adversity or delude herself into ignoring it, she lets it hone her conviction. Like the name "Mari," Scorpius's condition is yet another reminder of the atrocities committed by the Scarran Empire and the necessity of her work.


	8. We All Evolve

As Aeryn steps through the hatch to Moya's reproductive chamber, she feels _wrong_, as if she is trespassing on sacred ground. According to Pilot, Moya requested the pregnancy, and yet still Aeryn cannot walk into a mother's womb without cringing, can't think of Bialar and Gemmi's meddling and not shudder. Unlike the rest of Moya's crew, she has only been to see Mina once, and that was at Crichton's insistence. She ascends the ramp to Mina's open airlock and steps inside.

The unborn Leviathan briefly dims her ambient lights and emits a soft series of beeps that increases in pitch at the end as if she were asking a question.

"Hello, Aeryn." Gemmi greets her without looking up from the console display. "Mina wonders why you haven't come to see her again."

"I-- I didn't think Moya would want people stomping around in here. Or that Mina would be developed enough to recognize individuals." She lays her hand against the wall and feels a slight surge of warmth. Gemmi still has yet to look up from the console, so Aeryn gives in to a foolish impulse and rests her cheek against the wall alongside her hand. She closes her eyes and focuses on the subtle vibration and heat changes, wondering what it would be like to have Talyn's ability to read auras.

When she opens her eyes, Gemmi has turned to face her and is wearing a half-knowing, half-sentimental smirk that makes Aeryn want to hit her. In truth, her violent fantasy is caused mostly by embarrassment at being seen nuzzling the wall of a transport, but her glare wilts the smile on Gemmi's face all the same.

"Ah, is there something you need here?" Gemmi asks.

"Yes. I'm here to see Bialar."

"He's down below," Gemmi points to an open hatch across the deck from her, "working on the singularity drive."

"Like the stryker?" Aeryn wonders aloud. "You're giving her Peacekeeper _and_ Scarran technology?"

"Moya agreed to the additional modifications, and more importantly, Mina wanted them," Gemmi explains, meeting Aeryn's eyes and raising her chin slightly.

"I'm hardly disapproving!" Aeryn shakes her head. "Moya doesn't want her child to be helpless. I can't blame her."

"It still feels like frelling with nature, doesn't it?" Gemmi mutters.

"It _is _frelling with nature. That's why it feels wrong, but it doesn't mean it is wrong."

"You're right, of course." Gemmi nods and puts her elbow on the console so she can lean her chin on her fist. "I just hope to reason we're not making another Talyn."

"So do I," Aeryn agrees. She pats Mina's wall once more and then slips through the open hatch and descends a ladder.

Mina's lower deck is poorly lit cavern filled with pumps and wheels and tanks full of unknown fluids. Because Mina isn't running her own life support yet, most of the machinery is silent and still, but even so, the noise is enough to drown out Aeryn's voice as she calls to Bialar. Soon, the hybrid will no doubt grow a network of catwalks, ramps, and ladders, but for now, Aeryn struggles across the floor of the metallic jungle, ducking under pipes and wires and stepping over various pieces of equipment. In addition to the constant rattle and hum of working machines, she hears an erratic buzz interspersed with the tinny sound of a hammer striking sheet metal. She follows those noises to where Bialar leans against a tank, supervising three of Moya's DRDs as they assemble a pile of metal parts.

"So this," she waves a hand to indicate the DRDs' work, "is the singularity drive?"

"It will be, yes."

"According to Talyn and Ceredin." Aeryn leans back against a vertical pipe and folds her arms across her chest. "You trust them with Mina." She watches his face for any indication otherwise, but he only nods.

"I trust them implicitly. Besides, Gemmi verified the soundness of their calculations, as did Crichton before you pulled him from the project." His tone makes it clear what he thinks of that decision on her part.

"You haven't seen what it does to him. He's obsessed, scribbling formulas, muttering to himself, ignoring everyone--"

Bialar laughs, not with cruelty, but with genuine amusement. "That sounds like Gemmi working on one of her programs. Crichton has become a soldier in his own right, but on his own world, he was a tech. They're a strange group. Neither of us has chosen an easy path, Aeryn."

"No!" She shakes her head hard. "No, you can't compare him to-- if you are going to compare him to Gemmi, then remember her as she was when you brought her back from the med facility."

"When you suggested I end her life?"

Those words, though softly spoken, hurt more than anything screamed in anger ever could. She forces herself to meet his eyes anyway. "Yes. What I saw in her eyes then, it's what I see in his most of the time now. When he's in the grip of this madness, there's nothing left of _him_."

"You were wrong about Gemmi."

"I know. You were able to save her by linking with her. Now Talyn wants to try the same thing with Crichton. He thinks he can help with the information the Ancients left in Crichton's brain." She takes a step closer to Bialar, needing to see every minute detail of his expression. "Can I trust Talyn?"

"I have already told you, I trust Talyn implicitly, as long as I can be sure he is in a rational mindset."

"He tried to kill John before," Aeryn reminds him.

"So have I. And you would have fired on Crichton at my command, had I accepted you back into the unit instead of declaring you irreversibly contaminated. As Gemmi would no doubt tell you, it is hardly fair to hold Talyn accountable for the actions of a rudimentary version of his neural net. We all evolve."

"Scorpius didn't."

Bialar sighs and waves a hand in irritation. "But Talyn has. He is still developing. In fact, he is going through a rather amusing asceticism phase at the moment, but he is no longer dangerous. That I promise."

"And Ceredin?"

"Ceredin knows her place. She was programmed to serve Gemmi." Bialar chuckles.

Aeryn rolls her eyes. "And Gemmi follows you like a leashed negnik." She closes her mouth, deciding to keep the rest of that line of thought to herself.

Bialar shrugs, the corners of his mouth twisting upward with a hint of self-satisfaction. "Then you understand why I trust Ceredin. If she and Talyn believe they can help Crichton extract the Ancients' information, then I believe they have a good chance to do so."

"Not 'extract,' _erase_," Aeryn corrects. "I want that dren _gone. _Gone from his head, gone from our lives, I just frelling want it _gone." _

Bialar nods slowly. "Then that is what Talyn and Ceredin will attempt to do. But, Aeryn, isn't there a human saying that knowledge is power?"

"There's another human saying-- power corrupts. You should know that as well as anyone."

"That would imply that any military force is by definition malevolent. Is the universe truly better off for having many endlessly battling factions than one concentrated power?"

She can't keep the shock from her face. "You thought so. You were ready to die to keep anyone from learning what the Ancients shared with Crichton."

"To keep the Peacekeepers from learning it," Bialar qualifies. "To keep Scorpius from learning it. Had I considered the possibility of applying Crichton's knowledge to a just end--"

"No. Talyn and Ceredin are going in there, and they're taking it out, getting rid of it!" She throws her hands down to her sides.

"If that is your decision..." Bialar shrugs.

"It is."

"Then I hope it restores him to you."

She nods, too surprised by those simple words to think of a reply. As she makes her way back to Mina's command deck, she ponders the puzzle that is Bialar Crais. His insinuations about the Ancients' knowledge almost had her believing he could revert to the same power-driven madman who created Talyn, but his concern for Crichton seemed genuine. Before she exits the hybrid, she pauses near Gemmi and taps the Kalish woman gently on the shoulder.

Gemmi startles and teeters on her stool, scrambling to hold on to the edge of the console table. "I wasn't expecting-- Ah, I mean, I was just concentrating so much on this..." she gestures to the jumble of meaningless characters on the screen.

"I understand," Aeryn assures her, though she doesn't really. She has to concentrate on aiming when she flies target practice in her prowler, but that doesn't mean she falls out of the seat at the slightest distraction. Deciding to ignore the technician's flighty behavior, she asks, "When Bialar linked with you, when he went into your head, was it dangerous?"

"No! No, it was just like his original link with Talyn."

Aeryn feels her own eyes narrow. "I see. So he used the transponder to compel you into acting normal?"

Gemmi shakes her head. "No. He could have, but he didn't need to. He just explained he needed me to fix Talyn, and so... I came back."

_Leashed negnik, _Aeryn thinks, feeling a wave of disgust. What she says aloud is, "So it's nothing like what Talyn and Ceredin think they can do with Crichton?"

"I'm sorry, no. He'll be the test subject. I wasn't the same kind of experiment."

Disappointed, Aeryn forces herself to smile. "I suppose it's only fitting. This time he'll be on the receiving end of a fahrbot plan."


	9. The DogWagging Tail

[b] The Dog-Wagging Tail [/b]

Aeryn hovers in the doorway of her quarters, trying to look nonchalant while keeping one hand in her hip pocket. Lost in a world of symbols and numbers, Crichton mutters to himself as he pours over a book of his own scribblings. He is perched on the edge of the bed, the book on his lap, and though he is making no physical effort, the muscles in his bare back and chest are knotted with anxiety. At least he's wearing pants now. She practically had to stuff him into them, and he protested the whole time.

Since reason and force have already failed to pull him from his madness, she decides to try a new tactic and forces herself to smile. "D'Argo and Chiana are back from the commerce station."

Crichton's head snaps up to face her and for a moment, her false smile becomes real. She allows herself to believe that he heard her and sees her, that he understands the significance of her words. When he speaks, her illusion is shattered.

"The stryker is harnessing the energy output from a white hole." He says those words in a tone that is eerily similar to the one Zhaan used for her interminable religious chants.

Aeryn decides to ignore his last statement. "I thought you might want to come to the center chamber and have something to eat with the rest of us."

"The Scarrans didn't even realize how close they were to wormhole technology because they're not using wormholes to transport matter. They're just sucking energy from white holes along the worldlines, screwing the second law of thermodynamics six ways from Sunday."

"So you're working on Mina's singularity drive?" Aeryn asks, half-relieved, half-irritated. If Crichton is helping Talyn and Bialar, it means that Ceredin broke her promise, but it also means that Bialar may be right about Crichton being no more fahrbot than the average tech.

"Talyn isn't talking to me about that anymore." Crichton's eyes lock with hers, but it isn't her John behind those ice-blue orbs; it can't be. He could never look at her with such cold resentment.

"That's because you need to stop this!" Aeryn pleads. Her fingers twitch in her pocket.

"Doesn't matter. The math-- it's the dog-wagging tail now. It's not about Frankie's monsters getting a dope ride. It's about solving the puzzle. The solution is so close it's breathing down my neck."

"And you can't even take a half-arn to eat?"

"When I'm finished." He waves a dismissive hand and lowers his eyes to the page again. "Gotta find where I'm goin' wrong here..."

Her eyes burn with a pain that has become all too familiar since meeting John Crichton-- the sting of unshed tears, more agonizing in its own way than a pulse blast. Unsurprisingly, Bialar was wrong; Crichton, in his current state, is nothing like Gemmina. Even when Aeryn interrupted the Kalish woman's work, Gemmi's eyes has still held kindness and her words had been coherent. Now Aeryn is left with two options, the best of which is convincing Crichton to let the bioloids help him. The fingers in her pocket have begun to itch, but she wills them to stillness.

"Talyn and Ceredin believe they can help you," she says softly.

Crichton merely jerks his head to the side without looking up. "My other books are over there. Tell the kids to knock themselves out. Maybe they'll see how it all fits together."

"Not by looking at your work. By going into your mind." Her free hand strays to the back of her own neck, still scarred from her brief link with Talyn.

"No."

"Crichton, it's the only way--"

"I said no!" He throws the book down so that it makes a startling "smack" when it hits the floor, but Aeryn refuses to flinch.

"Why?"

"Cause I'm supposed to do it myself. That's what the Ancient said."

Despite her feelings of desperation and the itching, burning sensation that has now spread from her fingers to her palm, Aeryn laughs. "You're worried about playing by the rules of their frelling game?"

"More like I[i] _have [/i]_to play by the rules."

A snatch of her conversation with Ceredin flashes through her mind. [i] _I've always been a psuedo-consciousness. That sounds more like a program.__ [/i]_"You're not a program. You have a choice. You don't have to follow their rules--"

"I don't need you to understand. I just need you to get out and let me work." He picks the book up off the floor, opens it, and begins thumbing through the pages to find his place.

She pulls her hand out of her pocket, kneels beside him, and blows across her palm.

"What the hell?" His arm swings toward her, catching her by surprise, but by the time his hand reaches her shoulder, his grip is weak. She can't tell if he's trying to shake an answer from her or simply trembling.

"I'm sorry." She moves to sit beside him on her bed and puts her arms around him so that when he loses consciousness, he falls against her. As she cradles his head against her shoulder, she taps her comm and then says, "Ceredin?"

_[i]You had to drug him, didn't you? [/i]_

"Just send in the DRD."

_[i]I already have. [/i]_

A few microts later, a brightly painted droid rolls into Aeryn's room, brandishing a transponder in its small mechanical claw.

Aeryn blinks at the DRD in surprise. "You sent 1812?"

_[i]He volunteered. Or, more accurately, he didn't trust any of the others to perform the procedure. And I've learned not to argue with 1812. He won't even listen to Moya half the time, let alone me. [/i]_

"But you're sure he can do it? I think I'd rather have the one that put the transponder in for Gemmi."

_[i]Why? The algorithm for insertion is the same. It's only a set of instructions. You're being as irrational as Crichton's pet droid.[/i]_

At Aeryn's feet, 1812 rolls back and forth, gently nudging her boot with his antenni. She disentangles herself from Crichton's unconscious form and then lifts the droid onto the bed. "Fine then. Do it."

Unable to turn away, she shudders as she watches 1812 plunge the spiked device into the back of Crichton's neck. Blood seeps around the edges, and the droid uses a small absorbent bad to wipe it up, beeping his familiar tune as he does.

_[i]I can feel him. [/i]_

"How is he?"

_[i]He's a frelling mess![/i] _Over the comm, Ceredin chuckles. [i]_Talyn and I will come get him and take him to the maintenance bay. [/i]_

Aeryn sets 1812 on the floor, but the droid makes no motion save to twist his antenni so that his biomechanoid eyes remain fixed on Crichton.

"You did well." She bends over and pats the painted metal carapace. "They'll be able to help him now, get him back to the way he was. You never saw him that way, did you? Before he had all that dren in his head, he was, well, he was a bit of a negnik, actually. Half the time, I wanted to punch that fahrbot grin on his face."

1812's antenni swing from Crichton to Aeryn and back, then blink twice.

"Yes, I did!" She nods vigorously and squeezes her eyes shut. "He took everything from me. My friends, my rank, my purpose. He took everything, and the Ancients and Scorpius took him, and that was worse. I just want that frelling negnik back. And that's what Talyn and Ceredin are going to do. They'll get him back."

1812 bends both antenni in what may be a nod or a shrug.


	10. Whatever It Is

To Ceredin, the current scene in the maintenance bay resembles pictures she has seen of memorial ceremonies. She, Talyn, and Aeryn have carefully arranged Crichton on a table, and now everyone gathers around him. Chiana sidles close to D'Argo, and for once the Luxan makes no move to step away from her, not even protesting when she drapes one of his arms around her shoulders. Rygel circles in his hover chair, professing that he is only here out of curiosity while ringing his little green hands. Near Crichton's head, Aeryn stands as still as an inactive bioloid until Bialar tries to lay a hand on her shoulder and she slaps it away. Talyn, Ceredin, and Gemmi stand at the side of the table opposite Chiana and D'Argo. Most disturbing of all is Noranti, who stands a few motras away from the table, moving her body in a strange, slow dance, and muttering a chant to the Divine Eternal. The only thing clearly differentiating this gathering from a funerary right is the fact that Gemmi has busied herself with hooking cords into each of the transponders and linking them with her portable console. When the connections are complete, Crichton, Talyn, Ceredin, Bialar, and even Gemmi herself are represented as distinct charts on the screen.

"You're all a part of this?" Aeryn asks, gesturing to the thick bundle of cords.

"Ah, yes, well, it's a matter of contingencies," Gemmi explains. "If Talyn and Ceredin run into trouble, Bialar will be able to go in and retrieve them through his link with Talyn. I can monitor the process and decide if that's necessary. And of course if Bialar runs into trouble, well, I have a direct link with him."

"So, basically, you're saying there's enough room in there," Chiana leans over and taps Crichton's forehead, "for all the bioloids to get lost? What happens if you get lost too?"

"We are all taking a risk--" Gemmi begins.

Ceredin shakes her head and leans forward so her face is close to Chiana's. "_No one_ is getting lost. Gemmi's just being paranoid. Besides, if you want to know the truth, I think she wants to analyze the data."

"Just get it done already so she'll stop yammering!" D'Argo snaps, jerking a tumb at Noranti. "I swear, if I hear one more frelling word about the Divine Eternal..."

Ceredin shrugs. "She thinks she's helping." She turns to Talyn. Through the link, she can feel his apprehension as well as the desire to plunge in and complete the task. "Shall we?"

His eyes are steady as they meet hers. He takes her hands in both of his and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

Ceredin stands alone on the command deck of a half-familiar Leviathan. The basic layout of the consoles and the presence of internal weaponry both remind her of Mina, but everything is lacquered in Peacekeeper black-and-red. She had expected the mind-realm to be strange, so the setting doesn't bother her. Talyn's absence, however, has her near panic.

She wasn't programmed for this. Every living consciousness she's ever seen has been frozen on a datachip, reduced to a structure of substructures and stored in a file. Even on a datachip, a living consciousness is chaotic enough to intimidate her, but being inside one, alone is nightmarish.

"Nightmare..." she mutters to herself.

She realizes she _has_ seen this Leviathan before in the dreams that bleed through the link. She has walked through its corridors, starburst through the void with it, fought battles inside it, and in other dreams, in the worst kind of nightmares, she has seen it crippled beyond repair and has died with it.

"Talyn?" she whispers, turning in a slow circle and taking in the details of the command deck.

Like Mina, the Leviathan responds with chirps and blinking lights, but through the transponder she gets an intelligible response as well.

_Yep. I can protect you this way. _

"Hm." Ceredin glances down at her body, still clothed in the simple skirt and tunic she wears in the physical world. If she is going to be Talyn's captain, she should look the part. After a moment of concentration, she sports a full Peacekeeper uniform, complete with the appropriate insignia on the shoulders of the jacket. The leather molds to her body, clinging to her hips and thighs with the familiarity of a lover, and she decides she does understand why Aeryn Sun is so fond of her old uniform pants.

_Cer, you look... Sebacean. _

Her surroundings flicker like a hologram projected from a faulty console. Superimposed on the insubstantial Leviathan, Talyn's bioloid reaches out a hand for her.

She laughs and rolls her eyes. "And you just now noticed?" She sighs and closes her eyes, gathering strength for what she has to say next. "Your initial choice of avatar was better. Not better in general, just for this. We need to focus."

_Of course. _

When she opens her eyes, the Leviathan has solidified into a convincing dream setting again. "We can use your sensors to look for the wormhole data, can't we? You're equipped to collect information about your surroundings, and right now, that happens to be Crichton's consciousness. Run a scan, look for anything that doesn't fit."

_You might want to look behind you. _

"What--" Ceredin begins.

"Hands up! Turn around slowly."

The voice coming from behind her is Crichton's, and she complies. As she expected, he grips a pulse pistol like the hand of a an old friend, ready to squeeze if he feels the need. To her surprise, Aeryn stands beside him, her own weapon raised. Instead of her Peacekeeper leathers, she wears a short white dress made entirely of transparent lace and trimmed in fur that matches her pink-painted lips.

Ignoring the unlikely clothing, Ceredin locks eyes with Aeryn. "Why don't you put the gun down and explain that this was your idea?"

"No. Why don't you just admit you're part of a retrieval squad so I can shoot you?" Aeryn's finger twitches on the trigger, but Crichton lays a hand on her wrist, and she relaxes instead of firing.

"Wait," Crichton tells her, then turns to face Ceredin again. "I know you. Lisa?"

"That's what you call me," she agrees, shrugging to show she doesn't understand the nickname.

"Who the frell is Lisa?" Aeryn demands, pouting like a little girl. She folds her arms across her chest in a way that pushes her breasts up and stretches the lace even thinner.

Still pointing the pistol in one hand, Crichton runs a hand through his hair. "Uh, she was this girl these guys made... never mind. It's what I call Frankie's monster here when she's not showing up in my dreams."

"She's not real, is she?" Ceredin raises an eyebrow and jerks her chin toward Aeryn, who now lounges on one of Talyn's consoles, swinging her bare legs and flexing feet clad in spike-heeled pink sandals.

"Dreams aren't supposed to be real." Crichton's voice has taken on a dangerous edge. "They're supposed to be Looney-Tunes, Salvadore Dali, Douglas Adams, Hollywood bullshit, and I'm supposed to think they're real. Cause when I know I'm in my head, it means somebody's frelling with me."

"Well, this isn't exactly going as I'd hoped." Hands still raised in surrender, Ceredin points an index finger at one of Talyn's guns. "Do you know what happens if your dream avatar dies? Because I don't. At least, I don't know what happens to you. I'm backed up on Gemmi's datachip, so I'll be fine."

"No. My dream, my rules. I'm Talyn's captain." Crichton turns his head briefly and taps the back of his neck, now wearing a transponder. "Talyn?"

_Don't worry, Cer. It doesn't work that way. _Instrument panels bleep in a cascade of laughter.

Ceredin smiles. "Talyn isn't part of your dream. You're in his consciousness now. It doesn't matter that he's in yours. You're a local variable. Talyn, can you get rid of Dream-Aeryn?" The internal guns buzz, readjusting their aim, and she hastily adds, "Without shooting her, please? Lose Winona, too."

_Oh. Yeah. _

The false Aeryn vanishes along with the pulse pistol in Crichton's hand, and he swears.

"You know what we're here to do." Ceredin lowers her arms, places her hands on the main control console behind her, and leans back.

"Aeryn said you wanted to help."

Ceredin nods.

"But you came with Talyn in full-on destructive mode."

"He's scanning for the wormhole data." Ceredin indicates a readout on one of the screens.

"And let me guess: when he finds it, bam-- no more Ancient puzzles to play with?"

"You'll be free."

"I can't let you do that. You need to get out of here, now." Crichton takes her by the shoulders and squeezes hard, bringing her face close to his.

"We don't need you to 'let' us. It'll just make it easier for you if you aren't in our way." She pushes him away, using her avatar's bioloid strength.

"I didn't say I won't let you, I said I _can't! _I'm warning you-- Damn." His eyes focus on something behind her and go wide. "Talyn, get out of here now. Starburst, pull the plug, do whatever you have to do!"

Ceredin whirls around to face the view screen. _Don't panic, Talyn! It's too late to starbust. But we can still fight it._

Whatever it is. 


	11. What You Can Do

As each microt drags by, Bialar fights the urge to pace. He glances from Crichton's twitching face to Gemmi's charts and back, feeling as useless as Noranti with her nonsensical chanting and her pointless dance. Rygel has already given Crichton, Talyn, and Ceredin up as lost causes. Chiana, too, has slipped away. Now D'Argo turns away from the table and heads toward the door.

"D'Argo?"

At the sound of Bialar's call, the Luxan stops and half turns.

"Would you mind removing her?" Bialar gestures toward the slowly spinning Traskan.

"My pleasure." D'Argo seizes one of Noranti's arms and drags her, still chanting, from the maintenance bay.

"Thank you," Aeryn mutters. She glances briefly up at Bialar before fixing her eyes on Crichton again.

Bialar nods acknowledgment. To Gemmi, he projects, _Do you have any idea of their progress? _

_None. _Gemmi shakes her head, bites her lip, and looks from the charts to the static tableau of Talyn and Ceredin. _I can't sense anything. Can you? _

_The link went silent when they entered Crichton's mind. _He moves back from the table and stands behind Gemmi, who now sits in front of her console. As he watches Aeryn stroke Crichton's hair, his own hand moves to Gemmi's head in unconscious imitation. He knows the desperation that Aeryn is feeling, the frustration of having someone close enough to touch and yet still out of reach. _I have taken so much from her. _

_Talyn and Ceredin aren't under your command. You're not responsible for-- _"The charts!" Gemmi points to the screen and in an instant, both Bialar and Aeryn and standing over her.

"Let me guess." Aeryn bends and points to the three charts that show erratic, spiking waveforms. "Crichton, Ceredin, Talyn.

"Yes," Gemmi agrees. "Something has them all disturbed. He could be fighting them, or--"

"I'm going after them." The words are out of his mouth before he can think, but he doesn't regret having said them.

Aeryn nods sharply after a brief glance at Crichton. Gemmi opens her mouth as if to protest, then looks from the static bioloids to the charts. She, too, nods.

Bialar places his palms on the table so his body won't fall when it becomes inactive. Using his link with Talyn like a mental rope, he pulls himself into the collective dream.

He isn't sure what he expected-- perhaps a primitive setting from Crichton's home world involving men wearing uncured animal skins and using semiconductor-based electronic devices. Instead of such an exotic scene, he finds himself on Talyn's command deck and blinks in surprise at a terrified Crichton and Ceredin, who for whatever reason, is in a Peacekeeper uniform.

"Is he real?" Ceredin demands, pointing at Bialar but looking at Crichton.

"Unless Talyn dreamed him up." Crichton shrugs. "Doesn't matter though. You need to get out of here _now." _

On the views screen looms a dagger-shaped vessel the size of a command carrier. From a central tower near the aft section, a pair of cannons stare like the eyes of a sentinel. Bialar fumbles through his memory for similar craft, finding none.

"What is that on the viewscreen, Talyn?" he demands.

_I have no frelling idea. As far as my sensors are concerned, it's a piece of Crichton's imagination. _

"It's an Imperial-class star destroyer," Crichton supplies. "Harvey's using whatever he can find in my memories. He's not going to sit back and let you--"

A squadron of small ships swarms out the bottom of the star destroyer. Each consists of a rounded chamber nestled between two large, hexagonal panels, and one of them hails Talyn.

_Should I answer? _

"Yes!" Bialar and Ceredin shout in unison.

On the clamshell, Scorpius-- or rather, Harvey-- flashes a calmly menacing smile. "He is correct. I cannot allow my data collection to be jeopardized. I will protect my interests."

Bialar feels the familiar surge of power associated with Talyn readying his cannon and finds it easy to keep his own tone cool as he replies, "To what end? Scorpius is dead."

Harvey tilts his head slightly and his eyes widen in surprise, amusement, or both. "So he has not told you."

"Told me what?" Bialar glances from the clamshell to Crichton.

"Nothing!" Crichton raises both hands, palms out. "Nothing I'd trust anyway. He says he'd know if Scorpy kicked the bucket. It's some kind of quantum information link."

"Talyn, cut the comms," Ceredin murmurs, twirling a lock of hair around her index finger. Her eyes have a faraway look and her brow is furrowed in concentration. "Hold your fire for now, too."

The image on the clamshell vanishes.

Forgetting Crichton's failure to share key information, Bialar faces Ceredin. "I take it you have something to tell us as well?"

"Mmm. More like a question to ask. He has us outgunned, and he hasn't blown us to bits yet. Why?"

"Easy," Crichton replies. "He can't kill me."

"So then we have the advantage," she mumbles around a lock of hair she just stuck in her mouth. "Talyn?"

_Say the word!_

"Talyn, I urge you not to act on speculation--" Bialar begins.

"Show me what you can do!" Ceredin interrupts. As Talyn's sonic ascendancy cannon blasts through one of the ludicrous-looking ships, she adds, "Sorry, Bialar."

Talyn reels as the swarm of tiny vessels retaliates, pelting him with laser fire. On the consoles, damage indicators light up, but the wounds are all superficial, lending credence to Crichton's claim that Scorpius wants him alive. Like a man swatting insects, Talyn goes after the small ships one-by-one. A light on his main console flashes, indicating that the star destroyer itself is hailing them, but Talyn answers the comm with cannon fire. Bialar winces at the sudden brightness on the view screen and then staggers as a piece of wreckage collides with Talyn.

Both Crichton and Ceredin stumble and fall to the floor. The latter pulls herself to her feet wearing the dazed look of a child emerging from a particularly exciting reality game. She meets Bialar's eyes grins. "I don't think I'll ever look at Talyn quite the same way." She closes her eyes, tilts her chin toward the ceiling, and says, "That was absolutely amazing!"

_Thanks. _This time, the beeps of Talyn's instruments sound more like crowing than chirping.

Crichton slaps the rear wall of command in congratulation. "Way to go! Chicks dig the sonic ascendancy cannon. Now all of you, get out!"

_But I've located the wormhole data! _Talyn protests.

Ceredin shakes her head. "No, he's right. It's an infinite loop. As long as Crichton is here, Harvey won't risk a full-force attack, but he can keep throwing things in our way. I-- I'm sorry. I'm programmed to exit infinite loops."

"It's worse than that." Crichton points to the view screen again.

_This one's the size of a city! _Talyn observes.

"Another of your childhood stories?" Bialar wonders aloud.

"Yeah, and it means he can beam on board, probably with a team of guys in leotards and phasers not necessarily set on stun. It's only me he wants alive."

"Beam aboard?" Ceredin repeats, frowning.

"Dematerialize and rematerialize with lots of shimmery stuff." Crichton wiggles his fingers in the air. "He can come right through without having to scratch Talyn."

"That's ludicrous," Bialar observes.

Ceredin shrugs and then grins. "So we take it out before it gets close enough."

Crichton shakes his head. "Don't bother. It's a galaxy class starship. It has shields that make a defense screen look like a mosquito net."

"Then we outrun it with Talyn's singularity drive." Bialar's softly-spoken proposal stuns everyone else to silence for a few microts.

It's Talyn who first voices the obvious objection. _I don't have a singularity drive. I'm not a stryker. _

"Then give yourself the design we planned for Mina."

_Got it! _

Just as Ceredin opens her mouth, Crichton claps his hands together, looks at Bialar, and says in a high-pitched, mocking tone, "You're frelling brilliant!"

Ceredin sticks out her biomechanoid tongue. 


	12. Three Ways to Say Frelling Mess

"Talyn, is that..." Instead of finishing her sentence, Ceredin points to the shimmering blue tube on the view screen.

_My sensors flagged this part of Crichton's consciousness as different. And I'm not getting readings from the other side. _

Bialar looks from the screen to Crichton, who is staring at the wormhole with the awe of a zealot gazing upon his god. "Crichton, is this our objective?"

"I can take one of Talyn's transport pods," Crichton mumbles. "I can finally get in there. The solution-- the unifying set of equations-- it's on the other side, and I can get it out before Harvey gets here."

Bialar and Ceredin share a look, and Talyn senses their joint intentions through the links. His cannon fires on the wormhole but has no effect.

"Are you protecting it?" Bialar demands of Crichton. He crosses the command deck and takes the man by the shoulder. "That artifact," he gestures to the blue tube that undulates on the view screen, "is what I sacrificed my own life and Talyn's to keep from Scorpius. Destroying it is the reason I risk everything, even now, and if it were not for Aeryn Sun, I would put a pulse blast through your head simply because this is inside it."

Crichton struggles to free himself, but Bialar's avatar has his biomechanoid strength and the Human soon gives up. "Fine. You want to take me down like a rabid dog, you go ahead. Just give me a chance first. If I can get to the data before Harvey finds us, maybe I can..."

"We'll all go," Bialar decides. "Talyn, enter the wormhole."

_Cer, you don't have to do this, _Talyn offers. _You can go back and watch the charts with Gemmi and Aeryn. _

Before Bialar can argue, Ceredin shakes her head and trails her fingers gently over one of Talyn's consoles. "Of course I have to. You need me to analyze the data, just like we need you to get us inside. Besides, I trust you."

"Hey, Talyn?" Crichton calls. "In the real world, you've got me hooked up with one of your tentacles of friendship, right? So I should be linked with you just like they are." He gestures to Ceredin and Bialar.

_Right. _Talyn agrees. _But I don't take orders from anyone. _

Crichton shares a look with Ceredin and Bialar, then rolls his eyes. "Yeah, we know. Look, I'm not asking you take orders, just let me guide you down the rabbit hole. Give me manual control until we get to the other side."

_Flight controls are unlocked. And you have access to my data streams. _

"Thanks." Crichton steps up to the flight control console and begins adjusting settings. Within microts, Talyn begins accelerating toward the mouth of the wormhole.

Ceredin sidles close to Bialar and grips his right hand in her left. He is so startled by the gesture that he looks away from the wormhole on the view screen. Though he had noted her attire before, the absurdity of Ceredin wearing a uniform, complete with captain's insignia, just now dawns on him. The same pseudo-consciousness who only macrots ago declared herself commander of a gunship is now clinging to his hand like a child. She is also about to stuff a lock of hair into her mouth, so he seizes her right wrist before she can.

"As I have said, that's revolting," he tells her.

Her eyes flit from his face to the view screen and back. "I'm nervous." She drops the lock of hair and twists her hand until it is gripping his.

"Understandable--"

Bialar's response is interrupted when Talyn lurches, throwing them both to the floor.

"--but not a reason to discard your dignity," he finishes, now lying on his side, still holding both of her hands.

"Should be bother getting up?" she wonders.

Talyn yaws again, sending them sliding across the floor.

"I don't see the point," he mutters, spitting out a mouthful of yellow hair. His back is pressed against the aft wall of the command chamber and Ceredin is plastered against him in what would be, under any other circumstances, a compromising position.

"Ya ok back there?" Crichton calls over his shoulder.

"Of course!" Ceredin frees her hands and pushes herself into a sitting position, her back to the wall. "We're astral projections of our biomechanoid embodiments. We don't bruise easily."

The fact that she braces her feet against the floor belies the bravado in her voice. She reaches for Bialar's hand again, gripping it hard enough that his Sebacean bones would have been crushed. Together, they manage to remain in place as the wormhole tosses Talyn like an aircraft in a planetary storm.

_I can sense the other side now! _Talyn announces, instruments chirping in relief.

"Thank reason!" Ceredin sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and grinning.

"Reason," Bialar replies, "is a word that never applies to anything involving John Crichton."

"We're through the looking glass! Can I get a—"

Everything vanishes. For a moment, Bialar's consciousness exists in a void. Then, without having fallen, he lands something.

"Hell yeah?" Crichton finishes weakly.

"Where the frell are we?" Talyn demands out loud.

Bialar opens his eyes to see Crichton sprawled on a lawn of cropped green grass next to Ceredin. Talyn, now in his bioloid form, reaches down and helps them both to their feet. Bialar stands up and turns in a slow circle. In one direction, a set of meticulously groomed hedges traverses a hill in a path that resembles the tracks made by a confused worm. At the top of the hill looms a stone fortification whose peaked, cylindrical towers are more reminiscent of a children's vid than any actual building. In all other directions, the grass extends in a surreal, unending plane.

"I think..." Crichton pauses to think, looking from the hedges to the castle to Bialar. "It's the Ancient's way of representing the challenge we have to get through to get to the equations. They used symbols from my head, but it's their world here."

"Which explains why I'm stuck like this." Talyn gestures to his own body and shakes his head in disgust. "Frell. I can't even give myself a weapon."

Bialar attempts to conjure a pulse rifle for himself, as he did when he entered Gemmi's consciousness, but his thoughts have no power. He clenches a fist in frustration.

Crichton's eyes are squeezed tightly closed, and he has both hands positioned as if grasping something. He mutters various words and phrases under his breath. Bialar catches "Winona," "hedge clippers," "light saber," and "flame thrower," before Crichton gives up and opens his eyes.

Ceredin rolls her eyes at all of them in turn. "So we find out what their rules are and win the game. That looks like an entrance." She gestures to a gap in the hedges.

"Yeah, it's a hedge maze," Crichton agrees. When he receives three shrugs of incomprehension, he continues, "You try to find our way through it. There could be more than one right way, but most paths are going to dead end."

Bialar glares at the green shrubs, unable to keep himself from imaging how easy it would be to blast through them with the right equipment. "Are all Human minds filled with such nonsense?"

Before Crichton can answer, Ceredin laughs. "Human, Sebacean, Leviathan-- three ways to say 'frelling mess'. Oh, I don't know what the three of you are so upset about! It's not as if there isn't a systematic solution. If we walk in a continuous path along one wall, we're going to run into the exit eventually."

"That will work," Bialar agrees.

"We might not have that kind of time," Crichton argues. "Besides, it could be a test of intuition."

"Which is a fancy way to say it might be faster to guess." Ceredin shakes her head. "Better to be systematic and sure."

Crichton shrugs. "Fine then, we split up. Lisa does it the machine way, I do it my way, last one to the wormhole data's a rotten egg. So who goes with--"

Talyn and Ceredin have already started for the entrance, so Crichton shrugs and follows them, Bialar at his side.

"Talyn?" Ceredin has draped an arm around his waist, and she turns her head so that even in profile, Bialar can tell she wears a broad grin. "It was absolutely spectacular how you unleashed yourself on the star destroyer."

Through the indirect link, Bialar glimpses some of the imagery flickering through her head. He extrapolates the effect it must have on Talyn, who has a direct connection with her, and decides to prevent further distraction. Just as she and Talyn reach the entrance to the hedge maze, he calls out to her.

"Ceredin! This is not the time."

"Or the place!" Cricthon agrees. "It's still my damn head!" He claps a hand to the back of his neck. "I don't know how you talked Aeryn into letting them do this to me. Now I've got their after school special playin' in my brain on top of everything else."

"I suggest you take the opportunity to fine-tune your concentration," Bialar advises. "And thank fortune for Talyn's current obsession with self-control. Which way?" He gestures to the divergent path in front of them.

"Uh, the way they didn't go, I guess."

"So you don't feel compelled in any particular direction? You're not receiving guidance from the Ancients?"

"Look, if I had a coin, I'd flip one, but they don't even let me do that. I tried to get a coin when the flame-thrower didn't work. I can do some of Noranti's chants if it'll make you feel better."

"Perhaps I would have been better off with Ceredin," Bialar remarks, keeping pace with Cricthon as he takes off in an arbitrary direction.


	13. What Makes Horse Races

When Talyn turns his head to either side, he sees the unrelenting green of the hedges. Looking up or down gives him a view of monotonous blue sky or dismal brown dirt, respectively. If he looks straight ahead, he finds his eyes drawn to the rhythmic movement of Ceredin's hips and legs, which are still covered in black Peacekeeper leathers. Walking, he reflects, is a comically inefficient method of locomotion, and he wonders if he looks as ridiculous from the back as she does. Surely not. At the very least, that part of his frame has less hydrogel padding, which means it shouldn't bounce with every step.

"There's something wrong." Ceredin stops so abruptly that Talyn walks into her, automatically noting just how much she compresses against him.

He puts his hands on her hips to prevent them both from falling. "You just now noticed? It's Crichton's head. Everything is wrong."

"No, I mean there's something specifically wrong with this maze. Oh, you haven't been mapping as we go, have you? You do have a charting function, but apparently you'd rather study the rheological properties of my eema. And I _don't _'bounce,' by the way--"

"Cer?" He moves his hands up to her shoulders and turns her around so he can look her in the eyes. "What is it that's wrong?"

"We're doubling back."

He shrugs. "I think that's how a maze works."

She shakes her head. "Not a real one. We're back at a set of spacial coordinates we've already visited, but the hedge pattern has changed. And we're supposed to be moving along one edge, so we should never pass through the same coordinates twice anyway. Here--" She closes her eyes and sends an image through the link.

Her map of the maze confirms her explanation, showing their current path crossing their earlier steps in a way that should be physically impossible.

"Frell."

"Frell is right," she agrees. _Bialar? Crichton? _she shouts across the link, making his head reverberate like a plucked string.

_What's up, Lisa? _

_Yes, Ceredin? _

_Are you making any progress? _she asks.

_None. _Bialar's thought bristles with irritation.

_We don't know yet! _Crichton protests. _I think we're kinda working our way up the hill. _

_You're not mapping either, are yo_u? Ceredin rolls her eyes at Talyn, and her exasperation oozes through the link. _Why am I the only one who maps? _

_I shouldn't need a map in my own damn head! _Crichton snaps.

_Not all of us have your spacial recording capabilities, Ceredin. I take it you've discovered a problem? _ Bialar asks.

She projects her map through Talyn's mind and into theirs.

_So they're breaking the rules... _Crichton mutters. _At least for you. Maybe they don't want you guys finding the wormhole data. No offense, but Talyn doesn't exactly have a track record of responsibility. And you, you're... _

_If you say the word "program"... _Ceredin lets that thought trail off. She tilts her chin upwards, raises her eyebrows and meets Talyn's eyes as if daring him to laugh.

_You're right. _Talyn agrees. _I'm the last one they'd want to give that knowledge to. And Bialar isn't much better. They put the data here for you to find. Maybe the rest of us should go back. _

_No! _Ceredin shakes her head so fiercely that her hair flies in Talyn's face. _No. What if Crichton stays lost? Oh, I know, it's your head, you shouldn't get lost, but that's not good enough for me. I promised Aeryn I could help you. _

_We could always come back for him, _Talyn offers.

Ceredin twirls a lock of hair around her finger and tilts her head from side to side, considering. _We may not be able to find this place again. Not without Crichton leading us here. _

_I have our path recorded. _Talyn taps his own head. _And I think I cam mimic Crichton's responses while he flew us down the wormhole. _

_But you couldn't map the maze while we walked through it? _Ceredin's eyes narrow in disbelief.

Talyn shrugs. _I guess I think better when I'm in my-- _he stops himself from saying 'real' and finishes-- _old form. Being like this... it changes the way I think. _

_Perhaps he's right. _Bialar's thought feels directed at Crichton rather than Talyn. _It may be wisest for us to leave you alone._

_Worth a try, _Crichton agrees. _And if you do come back, let's switch partners. Crais and Talyn can have a little father son bonding and I get the human GPS. _

_I'm _not _a Human, _Ceredin protests.

_Alright then; I get the pseudo-conscious GPS. _

_Fine. _Ceredin agrees. _Goodbye, Crichton. _

_Hey, Lisa? Tell Aeryn I'm sorry. _

_For? _

_She'll know. _

_Alright. I will. _Ceredin releases the link with Crichton and Bialar and takes both of Talyn's hands in hers. "So, how do we do this? Can you change forms again?"

"That's what I've been trying to do for the last two arns! If I weren't stuck like this, we'd have blown up the castle by now."

"But that's just it; whatever program the Ancients left in his head, it's protecting that data. If it knows what we're trying to do, it's no wonder we can't get close. But if it realizes you want to leave, maybe..."

He closes his eyes and focuses his concentration, imagining himself whole and powerful, able to carry Ceredin and protect her.

_That's right, _she purrs through the link. _Talyn-- my gentle Leviathan, my fierce gunship. _

Her mind-voice is soft, like her biomechanoid body, and though she calls to him as his pilot, her thoughts make him more aware of the warmth of her hands in his. He pulls away and takes several steps back. _Just let me focus. _

He tries again, willing himself to be Moya's son once more, to have a shape like hers, to sail through the void as she does, even if his void is only the gap between Crichton's thoughts. After a few fruitless microts, he opens his eyes and kicks at one of the hedges in frustration, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Cer. I can't."

"Hm. I'm not surprised. I couldn't wish myself out of this uniform, let alone change into an entirely different avatar. We'll just have to double back and hope the program lets us retrace our steps and leave."

"Frell that! I say we tear these frelling weeds out of the ground and get to our goal!" He spreads his feet to brace himself and reaches into the hedge, feeling for a thick branch. As he squeezes his hands around one, thorns he doesn't remember being there dig into his palms, but he ignores the pain and pulls. The hedge's resistance only makes him angrier, so he twists the branch, bending it back and forth until it snaps.

He pulls the branch out and hoists it in the air like trophy, waving it in triumph and eliciting a half-proud, half-amused smile from Ceredin.

She steps toward him, probably for a congratulatory hug, but her smile suddenly vanishes, and she points to something behind him. "Look."

He pivots and watches as the hedge sprouts a dense knot of branches to replace the one he broke. Once the greenery is in place, a bud forms, and an intricately-pettled red flower blooms, perhaps mocking the synthetic blood that flows from the holes in Talyn's palms.

He clenches his fists in frustration. "Frell!"

"An accurate assessment."

The voice that spoke those words is as smooth as paper and as dry as a written order. It warrants another curse, but nothing feels quite sufficient to express the mixture of fear and loathing that Talyn feels as his mind pairs that voice with the face of a twisted half-breed.

"You!" Ceredin gasps.

Talyn turns around and steps between them, instinctively wanting to protect her, even in his current useless body.

Scorpius-- or Harvey, or whatever the neural clone calls himself-- merely smiles and steps toward the new vegetation. Leaning on a long, gnarled stick he carries in one hand, he bends forward and buries his nose in the petals, inhaling with a sigh and a grin.

"You've been following us." Ceredin steps around Talyn and brings her face near Harvey's. "You're the reason the Ancients' program is keeping us out."

Harvey stands up straight again, still holding the stick, but no longer leaning on it. Instead of Scorpius's black leather ensemble, the clone wears light blue pants made from thick blue fabric and a fuzzy shirt with a mishmash of narrow and wide stripes. On his feet are a pair of heavy brown boots with rounded toes and laces. Even in such laughable garb, he looks menacing as he answer's Ceredin's accusation with an urbane smile.

"You make the mistake of assuming all programs share your sophistication, my dear." He plucks the flower from the hedge, reaches out, and tucks the stem behind Ceredin's ear.

She shakes her head, letting the blossom fall to the ground. "You're saying it's not an AI?"

"This part of it isn't, no. It has a large, but finite, collection of maps. Every so often, it changes in a predictable fashion. To a Human mind, it provides the illusion of impenetrable complexity."

"Then you've been here before?" Ceredin asks, tugging rhythmically on a lock of hair.

Harvey nods. "I can lead you to the gates."

Talyn forces out a laugh. "I seriously doubt that. Come on, Cer. We can't trust him."

"I don't," she agrees around a mouthful of hair. "If you've been through the maze, then why aren't you finished collecting the data?"

Harvey's smile becomes a sneer. "Because of what is at the end."

"Hm. I see." She tilts her head from side to side. "Whatever it is, you can't get past it, so you're hoping we'll help you if you help us get there."

"Forget it!" Talyn folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head. "We're leaving."

"You will wander in here for weekens before the program reveals all its maps," Harvey hisses.

"Could be worse." Talyn shrugs and takes Ceredin by the arm. When he tries to pull her forward, however, she doesn't budge. "Cer?" he prompts.

He looks from him to Harvey and continues her conversation with clone as if she hasn't heard a word from Talyn. "Alright. Here's my counter offer. You take us through the maze. When we get to the gate, we leave you outside. If you try to follow us, we tear you into a pile of bloody pieces, which we can do, because we still have our bioloid strength and the laws of physics seem to apply here, at least on a local scale."

"Agreed." Harvey nods and begins marching forward.

Ceredin follows, pulling Talyn along with her.

"Why the frell did he agree to that?" Talyn wonders. He lengthens his stride to keep up with the halfbreed.

"Because he thinks he can double cross us somehow and use us to get into the castle. We know that, just like he knows we'll try to stop him. For now, we agree on a course of action only because we disagree on the outcome."

Harvey looks over his shoulder and grins. "That, my dear pseudo-consciousness, is what makes horse races." He begins to whistle a cheerful tune.

Talyn glances at Ceredin. "What's a horse?"

"Frell if I know." She shrugs. "Don't think I like this any better than you do."


	14. Where My Usefulness Ends

"Ah, Sikozu?" The soft voice is accompanied by the appearance of a blond, holographic young woman nibbling on a lock of hair.

Sikozu sees the hologram out of the corner of her eye, but doesn't bother turning away from the transport's senor screen. "I told you, Mari. I don't want to be interrupted unless--"

"Your Scarran contact just reported a negligible anomaly in the sensor scan readings. I've set a course for the location."

"Then you've completed your task for now. I will let you know when I need your assistance." Sikozu waves a dismissive hand.

The hologram rocks as if shifting its imagined weight from foot to foot and tugs several times on the lock of hair.

Sikozu sighs with exasperation. "If you have something more to say--"

"Two Scarran strykers have been dispatched as well. They aren't traveling at top speed, and we're closer, so we may be able to beat them to the location."

"Then try. I've given your flight AI full control."

"Of course." Mari nods, but her hologram fails to disappear.

Feeling as if she has just lost some battle of wills, Sikozu turns to face the projection. "Yes, what is it?"

"It's just... my flight AI. It doesn't feel like your work. It's brilliant, in a way, I mean, it works, but it's so... organic. I can use it, but I don't exactly understand it."

"It's not important for you to understand things, Mari." Sikozu shakes her head, irritated.

"But curiosity is a sign of intelligence." Those words come from behind Sikozu and she turns to see Scorpius climbing up from the transport's hold. "You can hardly fault her for being interested in her origin."

"She's a program," Sikozu snaps.

The corners of Scorpius's mouth curl, and one of his eyebrows creeps up, but-- fortunately for him-- he does not stoop to making the comparison. Sikozu clenches one hand into a fist, savoring the feel of muscles contracting along with the slight sting of fingernails digging into her palm. The fact that she can experience those sensations is only the smallest part of what separates her from the bundle of code called Ceredin Mari. The intelligence behind the hologram is a mere set of instructions; Sikozu herself is alive. She glares at Scorpius for a moment before turning back to face the hologram.

"I borrowed your flight AI from the data spools of a Leviathan. It's too complex for you to understand because it's part of a real mind."

"Hm. A 'living consciousness'." The program manages to imbue that phrase with a mixture of frustration and reverence, and Sikozu can almost believe that Mari genuinely 'wants' to be something more. "There's a name in my memories that seems to go with the flight AI. The Leviathan-- was he called Talyn?"

"Perhaps." Sikozu shrugs. "His name isn't important. All that matters is your ability to fly the transport."

"Hm. Don't your origins matter to you? Your mother, your father--"

"All that matters is my objective!" Sikozu barks. "Just fly the frelling transport." When the hologram persists, she adds, "You don't need to project an image to do that. And disable your internal sensors until I call you."

Mari dutifully vanishes, and Sikozu breaths a sigh of relief mingled with frustration. "She's like a child!"

"Then I suggest you treat her like one," Scorpius replies. "When we meet with Moya, her loyalties will be tested."

"I've reprogrammed her loyalties."

"And her memories. Yet she still remembers the name of a certain inconvenient creature."

Sikozu nods reluctant agreement. "It's been difficult to disentangle the parts of her Gemmina created from those she borrowed from Talyn. Still, what do you want me to do with her? You're not suggesting I should try to be her _friend?"_

Scorpius shrugs. "We need her as an ally. I am not convinced that allegiance can be programmed."

"Very well. I will try to be... nice to her next time I require her assistance."

"Always so focused." Scorpius runs a hand through her hair as he studies her face. "Almost as if you are following a set of instructions..."

"I am acting in accordance with my own convictions!" She frowns and shakes her head, wishing she could dislodge the idea he has just dragged to the surface. "The resistance didn't program my instructions, they simply showed me what was being done to my people and explained how I could stop it. My mind is my own."

Scorpius raises both hands, palms out, in a gesture of supplication, but his mouth twists into a mocking half-smile.

She knows he's goading her, hoping to elicit a violent reaction so he can retaliate. A monen ago, she would have been happy to play that game, but now she can only envision it ending with him in agony, pleading for her to change his cooling rod. At one time, she had thought it was his intellect that engaged her, but now, she realizes it was his physical prowess as well.

She meets his eyes, shakes her head slightly, and turns back to face the sensors before he can see the mixture of pity and disgust that fills her eyes.

***

Bialar has lost track of the number of times he has tried to will himself back into his own body. He has also lost track of his location in the hedge maze. The particular stretch he is now traversing has a distinctly unfamiliar feel, which can only mean has made an error in his attempt to return to the exit. For a moment, he considers trying to turn back and find Crichton again, but the idea of locating an "intuitively" moving target is less appealing than that of searching for a static location.

_Gemmi! _He calls to her through the link. Before his bioloid body was activated, her voice was his only link with the external world, and he wishes he could hear it now. _Gemmi, I need you to extract me immediately. _

There is no response, not even the vague sense of her emotions that usually hovers in the back of his mind. Whatever the Ancients have done in this corner of Crichton's consciousness, it has effectively severed him from Gemmi. Irritated at having to admit failure, he tries his other direct link. _Talyn? _

That call does elicit an emotional response, a sense of shame and frustration streaked with defiance; Talyn is doing something dangerous and is not pleased at being caught. Bialar sighs. _Do not ignore me, Talyn. Have you managed to exit the maze yet? _

The reply comes from Ceredin. _Better. We've found a way inside, or at least we've found a guide. _

_A guide? _he prompts. If they have managed to find help, then why the apprehension he feels from both of them? 

_You're lost, aren't you? Oh, just stay where you are. We'll come find you. _Ceredin's mind-voice rings with an insincere cheerfulness that fails to reassure him.

Knowing the futility of pressing Ceredin, he says, _Talyn, would you care to explain? _

_I'm not sure I can. _After a pause, he adds, _Cer, how would explain the fact that we're following a Scorpius clone towards the Ancients' wormhole data? _

_I wouldn't, _Ceredin answers serenely._ The situation was about to become obvious anyway. Bialar, can you work on visualizing your recent path? I need to get an idea for your spacial location, but it's clouded--_

_You are defeating the entire purpose of this mission by colluding with our enemy! Of course my thoughts are clouded. _He clenches a fist, wishing this place had substantial walls to pound instead of shrubbery.

_Look, at least this way we're fighting it straight on, _Talyn argues. _The Ancients' data, Harvey, as long as they're in Crichton's head we're all in danger. Win or lose, it's better than being stuck, right? _

Bialar snorts. _Yet the clone no doubt believes he gains some advantage by leading you to the data. _

_He thinks he'll beat us, we think we'll beat him, _Talyn explains.

_That's what makes horse races, _Ceredin adds. _And don't bother asking what a horse is. _

_The last time I agreed with Scorpius that our interests were aligned... _Bialar lets the thought trail off, not wanting to relive any more of that memory.

_Gemmi isn't here to be endangered this time, _Ceredin reminds him.

_She was not the only one endangered last time, _Bialar snaps.

An instance of Ceredin installed on the research station's mainframe, she had called herself the goddess in the machine. She had lead him to the research station power core where he had saved Aeryn, Crichton, and D'Argo. She had chased the people-- mostly Kalish technicians and their spouses and children-- from the doomed facility by manipulating the environmental controls. And she had vanished when the station's data spools had shattered in the explosion.

Bialar cannot quite decide if she was an individual separate from this Ceredin-- Talyn's Ceredin, whether he claims her or not. He doesn't know what to make of her-- can he even call it a death?-- her lack of existence. He doesn't know what to think of it, and so he tries not to.

_Bialar... _Ceredin sighs his name through the link. _I don't have her memories, only what I see in yours. I know you worked with her that day to save everyone. _

_You're both forgetting one thing, _Talyn adds. _I have a score to settle with Scorpius, and Harvey is probably about as close as I'm going to get. _

_Being motivated by revenge is hardly an assurance of success, _Bialar observes.

_Frell, I know that! There's no such thing as an assurance. I'm just looking for a shot. And I'm not going to find it unless we get to that data. _

_Very well then. We follow the clone to the castle. _

He hears shuffling footsteps and the rustling of leaves. He turns to see a grinning, corpse-like face perched ludicrously above a brightly-colored buttoned-up shirt.

Harvey's smile broadens at the sight of Bialar, and he cranes his neck to regard Talyn and Ceredin. "As promised, I have found your missing comrade."

Ceredin bounds toward Bialar and wraps her arms around his shoulders in a brief hug that might have cracked his Sebacean bones.

As he takes an instinctive step back from her, he puts his hands on her shoulders and pushes her gently toward Talyn, who puts one hand on her elbow claps Bialar on the shoulder with the other.

"We'll get out of here," Talyn promises. "You, me, Cer, and Crichton."

Harvey ignores both the implied threat and Talyn's glare. He gestures with a stick he carries, pointing down one of the green corridors. "This way!"

Ceredin strides after him, dragging Talyn along with her, and Bialar follows. For nearly two arns, they follow Harvey through the twisting green passages. Bialar's head begins to ache from Harvey's whistling, and he no longer finds Ceredin's antics amusing as she devises ways to touch Talyn while still moving forward. Even the way she bounces in her Peacekeeper uniform has become monotonous.

As they turn yet another corner, Ceredin gasps, and Talyn mutters, "What the frell is that?"

Bialar looks to Harvey, and raises an eyebrow, silently echoing Talyn's question.

The clone spreads his arms wide and shrugs. "Where my usefulness ends and yours begins." 


	15. Dual Memories

Gemmi returns from the center chamber to find Aeryn standing in front of the console screen. At the sound of the door to the maintenance bay opening, Aeryn pivots to face Gemmi, pointing a finger at her and gesturing to the screen with her other hand.

"What's the meaning of this?" Aeryn demands.

Gemmi shrugs. She isn't afraid of Aeryn Sun, only irritated by her. In a purely intellectual sense, she finds her own irritation interesting; after all, Aeryn's high-handed, stubborn attitude is the same one Gemmi finds endearing in Bialar and even Talyn. Her own hypocrisy would be difficult to program in an AI, and she feels a sort of awe at how her living consciousness-- any living consciousness, for that matter-- can exist without collapsing in a cascade of infinite loops and divisions by zero.

All that runs in the background of her mind as she calmly approaches the screen and says, "I assume you're referring to Crichton's chart?"

"Yes. His patterns look different than the others. Why?"

Because he's an entirely different species? Because Talyn, Ceredin, and Bialar all have some amount of Leviathan patterns and are constructed in bioloid code? Those are plausible explanations, of course, but Aeryn deserves better than to be pacified with rationalizations, so Gemmi studies the chart for a half macrot before replying, "It almost looks like two charts superimposed."

Gemmi glances up at Aeryn and as turquoise eyes meet dark blue ones, both women say, "Harvey."

"I can't separate the two. They're convoluted." Gemmi bites her lip, thinking. "If I assume that one of the two superimposed charts is basically an average of the other three individuals, then that would mean the other one looks like this..." She enters a sequence of commands, and when she is finished, the screen displays five charts instead of four.

"But the fifth chart still appears different," Aeryn observes.

"It's showing the same kind of patterns we saw from Talyn and Ceredin before, when Bialar made the decision to go after them. So either Harvey is... in an excited state, or Crichton is." Gemmi rubs at the back of her neck, pondering.

She looks down at Crichton's sleeping face and watches his eyelids twitch. She wonders what would happen if she tried to shock him awake. Her eyes move away from his face to the edge of the table, where Bialar's inactive bioloid still leans. The lifeless vessels of Talyn and Ceredin still stand next to him, their hands twined together, their eyes meeting in an expression of mutual resolve.

_Don't leave me! _Mina's frantic cry echoes through the link, the force of her emotions causing Gemmi to wobble.

"They're all I have," Gemmi mutters, putting one hand on Bialar's shoulder and stroking Ceredin's cheek with the other.

_You'll just get lost too! _

"Maybe you should just pull the cords. Do you even have any idea what you're doing now?" Aeryn asks.

"I--" Gemmi looks down for a moment before replying, "I'm relying on those I trust."

"That's--"

"_Gemmina?" _Pilot's voice comes over the comm.

"Yes, Pilot?"

"_You should come to command immediately. Moya has received a transmission you will want to see." _

Aeryn looks at Gemmi and shakes her head. "I'll go. Gemmi needs to stay here and monitor the bioloids' progress."

"No. You stay here with Crichton. If Bialar hasn't been able to bring Talyn and Ceredin back, why would I be able to?"

"If they're frelling things up in there..." Aeryn begins.

"They're risking their lives to undo the damage the Ancients inflicted. Aeryn, I know you understand the difference between living and simply being alive. My projects are trying to help Crichton do the former." She manages to meet Aeryn's eyes for a half-microt before pivoting and heading toward command.

On the command deck, she finds D'Argo standing near the clamshell, which contains Ceredin's holographic projection.

D'Argo looks from Gemmi to the clamshell and barks, "Well, she's here. Now tell us what the hezmana is going on."

"Tell her to move closer so the sensors pick her up," Ceredin replies.

D'Argo beckons Gemmi closer, and she approaches the clamshell. "Ceredin?"

"Yes..." the hologram looks over her shoulder as if seeking advice from someone else in the room with her. "But how did she know... Oh, alright." She turns back to face Gemmi, tugs on a lock of hair, and tilts her head to one side. "Gemmina Delonik?"

"Of course! Cer, I don't understand! Where are you installed?"

Ceredin shrugs. "Where I've always been. I have two refugees from the Kalish research station on the transport. I'm asking for asylum on your Leviathan. For the refugees, of course. I don't need asylum; that's the beauty of being a pseudo-consciousness."

Gemmi shrugs and shoots D'Argo a puzzled look.

"She is in a Kalish transport vessel," D'Argo mutters. He taps his comm and adds, "Pilot, can you bring it on the main screen?"

The small, all-white vessel hangs in the void, as helpless as an infant. Since the beginning of the Scarran occupation, no Kalish civilian has been allowed to fly an armed craft, or even one equipped with a defense screen. The tiny ship reminds Gemmi of a bird's egg, and she shudders slightly, wondering how it made its way through the Uncharted Territories without being broken by some hostile being.

She glances from Ceredin to D'Argo before saying, "Pilot, can you cut the comms for a macrot?"

"_Yes." _

The hologram disappears.

Gemmi bites her lip as she looks at D'Argo. "You know I want to help them, but there is something not right about this."

"Lola trusts Ceredin."

Gemmi smiles, recalling how surprised D'Argo had been when Ceredin discovered that his ship is a full-fledged pseudo-consciousness. "Lola trusts the version of Ceredin installed with her. And I trust my project implicitly, but what's on that transport... I don't know."

"Oh, I suppose no one is going to ask what I think." Ceredin-- the version on Moya-- appears above one of the consoles.

"We already know you want to bring the refugees on board," D'Argo replies.

Ceredin rolls her eyes. "No. Well, yes, but that doesn't mean _her _opinion can be taken for mine. The version on the transport is clearly corrupted. She doesn't seem to remember Gemmi. For reason's sake, she called her 'Gemmina'! Besides, the only Kalish transport I've ever been installed on is the one you let Sikozu take."

D'Argo grunts acknowledgment. "So we meet them at the docking bay, fully armed. I'll comm Aeryn."

"Wait!" Gemmi puts a hand on the Luxan's wrist before he can touch his comm. She tugs on the cord around her neck, pulling the data chip out of her blouse and fingering it. "We need all the help we can get. I'll load backup versions of Talyn, Ceredin, and Bialar onto the bioloids."

"What about the versions still in Crichton's mind?" Ceredin asks.

"They're still linked with their bioloids via the transponders. They can synch up if, ah, _when, _they finish what they're doing."

"Dual memories," Ceredin mutters. "Can a living consciousness cope with having been in two places at the same time?"

Gemmi spreads her hands and sighs. "I think so."

D'Argo nods sharply. "Then we do it. What about Crichton?"

"We can't do it. Wake him up, I mean. He was bad enough with just Harvey and the Ancients' dren. Now there are at least five separate minds there." Gemmi locks eyes with D'Argo. "We have to wait."

"Alright," D'Argo growls, sounding unconvinced. "Go get Talyn, Crais, and Ceredin awake and armed. Comm me when you're ready and we'll let the refugees come on board."

"I will," Gemmi agrees.

As she heads back to the maintenance bay, Mina's mind-voice rings in her head, calling, _Soon!_

"What?"

_Soon I can carry you without Moya's help. _

"Ah." She bites back a curse and wishes she could simply program the hybrid to be born at a more convenient time. "How soon, Mina?"

_Arns. Moya isn't sure... she isn't... ready. But I am. It's time._

"I'll be there," Gemmi promises. "For now, stay where you are. Please?"

A wave of irritated frustration flows through the link, reminding Gemmi far too much of Talyn and putting a cold pit in her stomach. After a few microts, Mina answers, _For now._


	16. Complete Entanglement

Unsurprisingly, the castle is surrounded by a trench a good twenty motras deep. In contemporary warfare, such as trench would be filled with pulse grenades or simply targeted by automatic energy weapons. Primitives often use sharpened spears or even water to deter intruders. Like everything else in Crichton's head, however, this trench has its own nonsensical twist; the bottom portion of it is filled with what looks like molten rock. The air shimmers above the flow, and the heat is enough to fell any Sebacean. The faces of Talyn, Ceredin, and Harvey all take on a reflected orange cast as the three of them stand near the edge, looking from the mysteriously flowing lava to the even more disturbing contraption poised above it.

Bialar takes one of Talyn's elbows and one of Ceredin's, yanking them back until they stand at a safer distance from the trench's abrupt edge. Talyn rubs his shoulder ostentatiously and mutters something about having his arm pulled off. Ceredin rolls her eyes, places her hand over Bialar's, and squeezes briefly, clearly pleased that he bothered to pull her back from the brink.

"Use caution." Bialar glares at them both. "Gemmi will dismantle me if anything happens to either of you."

Talyn shakes his head. "Not me, just Cer. Besides, I'd be more worried about what Aeryn's going to do to all of us." He points up to a large metal cage.

The cage is poised on one end of a beam. On the other end of a beam is a second cage, and the center of the beam balances precariously on a pole which extends from the archway above the castle's door. In one cage, an over sized silver key glitters in the orange light. The other cage contains the hunched, frantically scribbling form of John Crichton, who holds a pen and a small sketchbook. The way to reach either cage from this side of the trench is via a metal walkway that swivels on a hinge. The walkway extends just far enough for someone to reach one of the cages and remove the contents.

"Crichton?" Bialar calls.

The man in the cage gives no sign he heard.

"He's not our Crichton, is he?" Ceredin asks Harvey.

The neural clone shrugs. "He could be an empty symbol, or he could be a representation of Crichton's consciousness, just as the key represents access to the knowledge I require."

"Take one out, the other one falls down." Talyn plucks a twig from one of the hedges, tosses it into the trench, and watches it disappear. "Frell."

"There has to be a point to it." Ceredin bats Bialar's hand away from her arm and then twists a lock of hair around her index finger. "It has to be a game, with a winner and rules. Oh, yes, I know, this isn't fun. So call it a test, then. The Ancients want us to prove ourselves before they'll give us access to the data." She frowns at Harvey. "What happens when you let him fall?"

"I wouldn't know. Crichton's mind may be essential to interpreting the data on the other side of the door. I have not chosen to risk it."

"So there are two possible courses of action, and you have tried neither," Bialar observes. "You hope to learn from our failure?"

Harvey leans heavily on the walking stick. "I fear failure may be permanent. We must devise a way around this trap without taking either alternative."

"The obvious solution is to replace the key with an object of equivalent mass." Bialar turns in a slow circle, looking for a loose rock or anything else that might serve the purpose. Nothing presents itself.

"Have you tried asking him for help?" Ceredin jerks her head toward the caged Crichton.

"No response," Harvey replies.

"Hm." Ceredin picks a stray leaf from the sleeve of her jacket and flicks it into the trench. They watch as it dances to its doom, swirling on the waves of heated air. "Talyn's right-- frell." She stuffs a lock of hair into her mouth and regards Bialar with a maddeningly placid expression.

"I'm going to check out both cages." Talyn takes a step toward the walkway, then turns to look back over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I won't touch anything."

Bialar nods his permission—not that Talyn was asking for it-- and looks at Harvey. "I assume you've surveyed all of the area surrounding the castle?"

The neural clone nods. "There is nothing of use."

"We have no reason to trust your word on that. Come, Ceredin." He takes her by the elbow, turns his back on Harvey, and begins to walk along the narrow ledge between the hedges and the rim of the trench. Using the link, he calls out to Talyn. _Be on guard. I am leaving you alone with Harvey for the moment. _

_Good idea. If he gets close enough to the edge, I could--_

_Not yet, Talyn! We may still need his assistance. Even if we manage to get into the castle, we do not know what's on the other side of that door. Only defend yourself as a last resort. _

_Fine. _Talyn ends the conversation by moodily slamming a mental door.

Ceredin tilts her head as if listening to something, nods, and smiles. Bialar can only assume that the she and Talyn are sharing a communication. He continues along the ledge, holding her arm in a grip that would bruise a Sebacean.

"You can let go of me." When he glances back at her, her eyes no longer have the faraway look of someone conversing with a voice in her own head. "I have excellent locomotion algorithms, not to mention a lower center of gravity, so I'm less likely to fall than you are. Besides, we don't know what happens if one of us falls, and it isn't as if there weren't a backup copy."

He stops, but instead of releasing her, he pulls on her arm and brings her face close to his. "Can I trust you to stay away from the edge?"

"Of course!" She rolls her eyes.

He uncurls his fingers and lowers his hand to his side. They continue making their way along the ledge, and when a glance behind them reveals that Harvey and Talyn are out of sight, he stops again and faces Ceredin.

"How much control do you have over your link with Talyn?" he asks.

"Enough." Her eyes narrow and she tilts her head to one side. "Why? Did you drag me here to be alone with me?"

"Are we alone?"

Ceredin nods as she twirls a lock of hair. "I blocked the link. But you should know my loyalty is to Talyn and Gemmi."

"And Mina?"

"Of course. I couldn't love Mina more if she were my own sister. Oh, don't give me that look. You know what I mean."

He takes a step toward Ceredin and places a hand on her shoulder. "Then we understand each other. Ceredin, I need your help doing what is best for Mina. I have an idea of how to enter the castle. Once we reach our goal, you will have a choice to make. Can I count on you to make the right decision?"

She glances from his hand to his face, her eyes wide. "What if I say 'no'? What if say I'll destroy the data as I promised Aeryn I would?"

"That would be... foolish." He squeezes her shoulder, meaning the gesture as an implied threat and wondering if he is truly capable of carrying out that threat.

"Are they wrong?" Ceredin says the words so softly he has to read them from her lips. "Gemmi and Talyn-- they both say you've changed, that the things you've done don't matter."

He lets his hand fall. "If you were going to destroy the data, you would have tried to run by now."

She sidles away from the edge and takes a step back from him. "As I told Aeryn, the advancement of technology is inevitable. I'm only here to help Crichton, not because I believe its possible to keep the wormhole knowledge secret forever. I'll make a backup of the data," she taps her own head for emphasis, "but I won't promise to give that knowledge to Mina. Not if she grows up to be like Talyn."

"I understand." He nods and favors her with a grin. When she doesn't return his smile, he sighs. "Ceredin, I should not have threatened you. In truth, I never doubted your ability to see reason."

"But if I hadn't 'seen reason'..." she jerks her head toward the trench and then meets his eyes.

"I--" he had been about to say something about being able to do what is required, but he cannot force the words from his throat. He shakes his head. "I could not have harmed you."

She tilts her head to one side, then the other. "I think... no, I _know _I believe you."

"We should continue or survey of the castle." He turns and continues walking, desperate to look away from the trusting, childlike expression on Ceredin's face. He isn't sure which disturbs him more-- the idea of pushing her off the edge and into the lava or the fact that he could not have done so.

When she catches up to him, she takes one of his hands and laces her fingers tightly through his. "In case one of us gets too close to the edge," she explains.

He snorts. "So that we both fall?"

She laughs. "So we both get back to Talyn in one piece, you stupid drannit! This--" she raises their joined hands and shakes them. "This makes us safer. Stronger. Being attached is never a weakness."

He looks back at her and blurts out the question that just leaped into his mind. "Are you somehow reading me through the link?"

"Oh, no! Of course not! We aren't linked directly, only through Talyn. It's just... you and he are so much alike. It wasn't hard to guess what you were thinking."

"I see." He nods.

Her explanation makes sense, and also sheds some illumination on his reluctance to sacrifice her. In many ways, Ceredin is much like her programmer; she even had her bioloid altered so that physically, she looks like a younger version of Gemmi, if Gemmi had been born Sebacean instead of Kalish. Perhaps, he muses, the Peacekeepers were correct in their decision to forbid attachments. Connections tend to breed more connections, leading to complete entanglement.


	17. A Corrupted Version

"So we have failed." Bialar looks from Crichton, to Gemmi, to Aeryn, feeling slightly disoriented.

"No." Gemmi shakes her head emphatically.

"Not yet," Aeryn agrees.

"Then why use the backup?" Talyn demands. "Frell, I hate this feeling. It's like coming out of starburst too soon."

"There's no 'feeling,' other than the usual sensory signals. You're imagining things!" Ceredin taps Talyn on the forehead and rolls her eyes.

"You're needed," Aeryn explains. She gestures to a table where several pulse weapons have been laid out. "We're taking on some passengers. Supposedly, they're Kalish refugees."

"But you don't believe them," Bialar observes, taking one of the pulse rifles from the table.

"There's a corrupted version of Ceredin on their transport. We think Sikozu may be on board. I never removed Ceredin from the transport we left Sikozu in." Gemmi glances at Talyn and sighs. "I'm sorry. I was careless."

"Doesn't matter." Talyn shrugs. "I know better than to trust her now."

"_Now," _Ceredin repeats, smirking.

"What about..." Ignoring her, Talyn gestures to Crichton, who still appears to be asleep.

"The three of you are still actively trying to help him. Ah, I mean, you _are _helping him. Once you're finished, the separate instances will synch up." Gemmi flashes a reassuring smile.

"And then she and I can help you deal with the crippling onslaught of temporally shifted datastreams," Ceredin adds. "We think your minds will survive in tact. And if not, we have backup, right Gemmi?"

"Yes. I mean, it won't be necessary. Using a backup, I mean. Ah, again, that is." Gemmi flushes slightly and glares at Ceredin.

"She means she has no frelling idea what she's doing," Aeryn growls. "We'll worry about that when it happens. Now, we need to head for the docking bay and meet whatever comes off that transport."

Gemmi shrugs and looks Bialar in the eye. "I haven't had a frelling idea what I'm doing since I met you. I've learned not to let it bother me." She picks up a pulse pistol from the table, and Ceredin follows her example, leaving only one weapon remaining.

Bialar places a hand on Talyn's shoulder and says, "Pick it up."

Talyn's lips compress into a stubborn line. He folds his arms across his chest and shakes his head slowly. "I shouldn't--"

"This is not a matter for discussion, Talyn. Nor is it the appropriate time for you to develop some bizarre pacifist creed to compensate for your past--" Bialar begins.

Ceredin cuts him off by stepping between them. She stands on her tip toes and cups Talyn's chin in one hand. One she has forced him to meet her eyes, her hand drifts to the back of his neck, where she fingers the transponder. "I have the key to your soul, remember? I won't let you do anything stupid."

"I guess," Talyn mutters. He picks up the weapon and heads for the docking bay, the rest of them following close behind.

Bialar falls back slightly and walks close to Ceredin. "Can you honestly restrain his impulses?"

"If I had to, yes. Oh, I wouldn't abuse that power, if that's what you're thinking. I'm not interested in turning Talyn into my own lap drannit."

"The goddess in the machine," Bialar mutters to himself, glancing at the deceptively weak-looking girl who walks beside him. _You could have put more limitations one her, _he grumbles to Gemmi through the link.

_I was never thinking of what _she _could do, only what I could. But I don't regret it. Anything I've done with her, I mean. You don't have to worry about Talyn. She would never harm him. Mina either, if that's what you're worried about. It's not power we should fear, only power in the wrong hands. _

_At the moment, my fear can be summed in five words, which came from your mouth-- 'a corrupted version of Ceredin'._

_I'll handle it. _Gemmi's promise is accompanied by an image of her taking the dataspools from the transport and physically destroying them.

_A drastic solution. _

_But necessary. The corrupted version... she didn't seem to remember me. I can only trust Ceredin because of her loyalties. If those are forgotten, or changed then she's too powerful to-- well, to exist! I mean that instance of her is. If she or Talyn objects to the destruction of the dataspools, can I count on you to help? _

_Of course. _

When they arrive at the docking bay, D'Argo and Chiana are standing in front of a familiar looking vehicle. D'Argo taps a comm and barks, "You can open the door now."

"_Thank you_ ."

The voice drifting over the comm sounds like Ceredin's, and though Talyn appears to relax, Gemmi and Ceredin both stiffen, adjusting their aim with the pulse rifles. Bialar briefly regrets allowing Gemmi to come here; techs have no place in a potential battle zone, and he doubts she can handle her weapon with enough competence to make her an asset anyway. As the door of the transport opens, he steps in front of her, positioning himself between Aeryn and D'Argo.

A single figure exits the transport, arms raised in a show of surrender. At the sight of her, Aeryn and D'Argo both curse under their breath.

"I told you we should have given her a reason not to come back," Ceredin grumbles.

"And I told you it was fine with me if you wiped her out completely!" Talyn snaps. "You and Gemmi were the ones who wanted to let her go. I just didn't want you torturing her."

"I have information!" Sikozu declares, her hands still raised above her head. "Information vital to Moya's safety."

"Go ahead. We're listening," D'Argo tells her.

"I require an assurance of my safety, and I need medical assistance." Sikozu slowly lowers her hands to her sides, the corners of her mouth twitching in a way that suggests she is trying not to look too pleased with herself.

"You don't look damaged to me," Gemmi observes.

Sikozu shakes her head. "Not for me. It would be easier if someone helped me move him to the maintenance bay..." She jerks her head toward the open door of the transport and half-turns her body as if she is about to step back inside.

"Aeryn, Crais." D'Argo gestures to them, and the three follow Sikozu back into the transport where a familiar figure lays sprawled, unconscious on the floor.

"I see a pulse blast was not sufficient," Bialar observes.

"It was sufficient to further upset his internal temperature regulation." Sikozu kneels beside Scorpius and slides her hands under his shoulders. "Will you help me move him to the maintenance bay?"

"No, not there." Aeryn shoots Bialar and D'Argo a look that warns them to silence. "Gemmi's laboratory. Will that work?"

Bialar nods. "We can use the table she has set up for the bioloids."

"Perfect." Sikozu beams.

After kneeling and grasping Scorpius by the ankles, Bialar locks eyes with her. "Why are you here? You only left in tact because of Gemmi's reluctance to kill you, and you were instructed never to return."

"I told you, I have information--"

"And we are to believe you came here out of a sense of altruism? Or perhaps a sentimental concern for Moya?" Bialar snorts.

"No, of course not. I came here because my partner is damaged beyond the point where the skills of a diagnosan can help him. I need someone capable of performing a resurrection." Sikozu stands, dragging Scorpius to a sitting position. "Are you going to help me?"

Bialar stands as well, and the two of them move out of the transport with their awkward burden. "After what you did to Talyn? I would rather dismantle you. However, Gemmi will probably be eager for a new test subject."

As they emerge into the docking bay, Chiana calls out, "Frell! I thought we were rid of that krastic frellnik."

"Apparently not yet," Bialar mutters.

"Chiana, Talyn, take Scorpius to Gemmi's lab," D'Argo orders. "Gemmi, you wanted to see what was in that transport? Go find out. The rest of us are going to stay right here until she gives us her 'information'." He folds his arms across his chest and looks at Sikozu.

"Or we just take her back to Gemmi's lab and hook her up to the console. I can extract anything she knows," Ceredin offers, grinning.

"I doubt that will be necessary," Bialar replies as he hands Scorpius off to Talyn.

Chiana and Talyn make their exit, carrying Scorpius between them, and Gemmi enters the transport.

Sikozu tilts her head slightly to one side and regards Ceredin. "Who are you? An assistant of Gemmina's?"

"Hm. You could say that. Oh, I don't blame you for not recognizing me. Last time we met, I was an insubstantial projection of my instance on your transport and you were in the rather compromising position of having your memories plundered."

Sikozu's eyebrows shoot up, and she licks her lips. "You mean you're..."

"Ceredin Mari Delonik, at your service." The blond bioloid extends a hand, which Sikozu ignores.

"I trust you'll keep her away from me?" Sikozu looks from Bialar to D'Argo.

Pushing aside his irritation at deferring to the Luxan, Bialar addresses D'Argo. "Actually, I suggest we put Sikozu under Ceredin's watch."

"As long as she's in a cell," D'Argo agrees, shrugging. "Now, what exactly do you have to tell us that you think is worth us helping Scorpius?"

"Moya has been discovered by the Scarrans. Or at least they're aware of an anomaly in this region. Two strykers should be here within eight arns."

"Frell!" D'Argo curses. "Pilot! Can Moya starburst?"

"_She can try." _

"Then get as far from here as you can."

Bialar watches Gemmi emerge from the transport, a blackened chunk of polymer in her hand. She smiles weakly. "I've done it."

Ceredin's brows push together, and her mouth falls open for a microt before she speaks. "Are those the data spools from the transport? The ones with the corrupted version of me?"

"Yes." Gemmi puts the useless dataspools down and takes a step toward Ceredin, who backs away, looking near near tears.

"Now I'll never recover those memories! All that information, everything that happened to her, to me... monens of existence, of my life..." Ceredin stammers.

"I'm headed back to command," D'Argo announces, looking like a man watching someone else's family argument. "Just make sure the prisoner gets to a cell."

Bialar nods to him and then turns to face Ceredin. "Synching with that instance would have been too great a risk."

"But it was _my _risk to take." Ceredin brings her hands to her chest and then lets them fall to her sides.

"You were not the only one at risk!" Bialar snaps. "You are linked with Talyn and therefore with me and with Moya, as well as Gemmi. The capabilities you have, combined with the access you are granted to all biomechanoid lifeforms in the vicinity, means that your corruption would risk us all."

"Hm." Ceredin meets his eyes, then Gemmi's before looking down at her feet. "We could still have made an attempt to recover her data. My data."

"No." Gemmi shakes her head. "And I don't say that because of the risk to anyone else. I just love you too much to--"

"Oh, don't." Ceredin rolls her eyes and grabs one of Sikozu's arms. "If you'll excuse me, I'm taking my prisoner to a cell."

By all rights, Sikozu should look terrified as Ceredin hauls her roughly away, keeping her pulse pistol raised to Sikozu's temple. Instead, the last expression Bialar sees on Sikozu's face is one of immense satisfaction, as if she is winning a particularly challenging game.

Gemmi bites her lip, frowning, as she watches Ceredin take Sikozu from the docking bay. "Do you think she'll dismantle Sikozu? To, ah, take out her frustrations, I mean?"

"No." Bialar shakes his head emphatically. "Ceredin would be more likely to reprogram her than physically destroy her. Why? Does that concern you?"

To his surprise, Gemmi laughs out loud, flashes a smile that doesn't touch her eyes, and then kisses him. "No, I suppose it doesn't. All that matters at the moment is that Mina needs me."

"Then we go to her." Bialar drapes an arm over Gemmi's shoulders and begins walking with her toward Moya's reproductive chamber.

Thinking of Mina-- of the crowning glory the hybrid will be when she is grown-- is enough to clear his mind of everything: Scorpius and Sikozu's arrival, Talyn's increasingly eccentric behavior, Ceredin's fit of indignation, and the fact that at this moment a second instance of his own consciousness is hunting wormhole data inside the mind of John Crichton. Everything but the pair of Scarran strykers supposedly heading in their direction.


	18. Because You Were Weak

"You think he's faking it?" Chiana prods Scorpius with two fingers, poking him first in the chest, then the cheek. Neither jab elicits more than a twitch of the half-breed's eyelids.

"Don't know." Talyn shrugs. "Safer if we assume he is, though. I can tie him down. Why don't you go get Noranti?"

"What do we need Wrinkles for?"

"She might be able to help him with some of her herbal dren, give him something that will keep him alive until we decide what to do with him."

"You mean until Gemmi can turn him into one of you?" Chiana shudders slightly. "Did it ever occur to you that dead things should just be dead? It wouldn't be him, anyway, it's just a copy."

"All I know is I've had enough of killing. Letting him die when he's like this, it's pretty much the same thing. I don't care what Gemmi wants to do to him. Just go get Noranti."

The Nebari takes a last look at Scorpius's face, turns, and slinks from the room, passing Ceredin and Sikozu in the doorway.

"Where is Gemmina?" Sikozu demands, obviously ignoring the pulse pistol pointed at her head.

Talyn chuckles with genuine humor. He opens a mental door just far enough to check in on Bialar and verify that he still has Gemmi pinned against a fluid drum in Mina's pump chamber. The feelings reverberating through the link are surprisingly complex but seem to center on a sense of power over Mina that comes from being able to frell her pilot at will.

He shuts out Bialar's datastreams and smiles at Sikozu. "She's busy."

"But I warned D'Argo about the strykers! At least let me ask her if she wants to try--"

Ceredin pushes Sikozu further into the lab by jabbing her head with the muzzle of the pulse pistol. "Gemmi has better things to do. So do I."

With that, she tosses Talyn the pulse pistol, grabs Sikozu's neck in both hands, and pulls the skin at the base of her skull apart. After a few quick motions of Ceredin's hand, Sikozu goes slack and falls to the floor.

"Emergency disabling sequence." Ceredin smiles sweetly and rubs her hands together as if knocking dust off of them. "Talyn, would you hand me a link cord?"

He finishes tying Scorpius to the table, looks up, and meets her eye. "Why, Cer? What are you going to do to her?"

"Extract information."

"And then?"

"I haven't decided yet. That'll depend on what she did to my instance on the transport. I was corrupted, Talyn! Someone frelled with my memories to the point where I didn't recognize my own programmer!"

"Could have been a physical problem with the data spools or an interaction with some other program on the mainframe." Talyn walks around the table and moves close to Ceredin so that he faces her over Sikozu's crumpled form.

"Even if it was, what she did to you--" Ceredin thrusts her chin out and folds her arms across her chest.

"What she did to me was my own frelling fault! I should have listened to you. I shouldn't have trusted her. If I hadn't been a stupid, self-pitying negnik I wouldn't have given her the transponder in the first place."

"So she had the right to hurt you because you were weak? Is that what I'm hearing from you? What about Gemmi, Talyn? Was what happened to her alright? What about me? I should have reminded Gemmi to remove me from the transport, so whatever was done to me, it was my fault?"

"I didn't say that!" Talyn raises both hands, palms out. "It's not-- it's not about Sikozu. I don't care what happens to her, but Cer, if you do what I think you're going to, you're going to regret it--"

"Regret is a luxury in which I never indulge."

"Frell that! It's a lie when Bialar says it. You're not linked with him, not directly. You don't see the price he pays every frelling microt. Regret isn't a luxury; it's a disease, one that never gets better."

She shakes her head slowly, and one hand drifts to her hair. As she winds a strand around her finger, she says, "You forget what I am. I'm a sophisticated program, but I'm not a living consciousness. I don't think I'm cable of that kind of suffering." She sounds almost wistful.

"Then why does it matter to you what she's done? Why do you need to frell with her patterns and make the rest of her life dren?"

"I..." She drops the lock of hair and spreads her hands. "I'm a vindictive drannit. I never said I was noble. Oh, stop looking at me that way. I won't change her code. I promise. I'll just scan for information."

"That's better." He steps over Sikozu and pulls Ceredin's head to his shoulder. "Better for you, Cer."

"Hm. I think you might have been slightly less intolerable as a self-pitying negnik than you are as a sanctimonious probacto. " She stretches up to kiss him.

His mind races, taking the images of Gemmi he glimpsed through the link and turning them into Ceredin, bent backwards over the gentle curve of Mina's coolant tank. It's strange, wrong, and more than a little revolting that he wants to mate with one of the soft-bodied, long-limbed creatures. Still, every time Ceredin gets close to him like this, he gets nearer to accepting the feelings of this bioloid body as his own desires. If he could be sure he wouldn't hurt her, if he could trust himself...

"Chiana said I should come here!"

Hearing Noranti's cheerful announcement, Talyn disengages from Ceredin and nods a greeting to the old Traskan. "Yeah. Scorpius has Sebacean heat delirium. I thought you might be able to do something for him."

"Heat delirium? That's irreversible, I'm sorry--"

"Just do what you can to limit the damage. If there's anything you can do. If not, it's not much of a loss." Talyn shrugs.

Noranti begins fussing over Scorpius, lifting one eyelid, then the other, even as she rummages in her bag with the other hand.

"I should scan Sikozu now." Ceredin kneels in front of one of the lower cabinets where Gemmi keeps her extra cords and rummages until she finds a cable.

"I'll be in the stryker, doing a final check, just in case she was telling the truth about the Scarrans. When you're done, come find me?" Talyn bends to stroke Ceredin's hair.

"Of course." She tilts her head back and smiles up at him, and for a moment he sees her superimposed on another image from Bialar's memory.

Mentally cursing the link, he banishes the image from his mind and heads for the stryker. Halfway to the hanger, Talyn gets a comm that causes him to pivot and begin running back to the lab.

"_Talyn?" _Noranti sounds vaguely puzzled, which, for her, is the equivalent of most people being near panic.

"What?"

"_You may want to come back here. Your companion, she linked herself to Sikozu, she simply... collapsed afterward. I've been unable to revive her, not even with hegenroot, although I haven't tried rajan leaves. I could make her some rajan leaf tea--" _

"_Don't bother! She's a frelling bioloid!" _He taps his comm off, still running toward the laboratory, and calls out to Bialar through the link. _Get Gemmi back here now. _

_Impossible. Mina's birth is imminent, and her attachment to Gemmi is... problematic. Without Gemmi's physical presence, she may panic during the birth process-- _

_Something's wrong with Ceredin! I can still feel her through the link, but she's, I don't know, she's frelled up, Bialar. It happened when she tried to link with Sikozu to extract information. _

_At worst, Gemmi will need to use a backup to restore her. That can be done after the birth. Asking Gemmi to leave now will endanger both Moya and Mina. _

_Fine! I'm bringing Ceredin to you on Mina. _Talyn closes the link, ending the conversation as he bursts through the door to Gemmi's laboratory. "Where is she?" He grabs Noranti by the shoulders. "You moved her-- where?"

"No, she walked out of here, leaning on the Kalish girl." Noranti smiles and pats him on the cheek. "It seems I was mistaken. Sorry for making you fret. Sikozu should know what to do with her."

He releases Noranti and taps his comm. "D'Argo? Aeryn? Pilot? Something's wrong with Ceredin. Sikozu just walked her out of Gemmi's lab. We have to find them."


	19. Maintaining Optimal Balance

"So you're the hybrid's ghost." Harvey leans forward, his fingers laced across the top of his walking stick.

"I guess." Talyn shrugs. Out of boredom, he has pulled a branch off of one of the hedges. He strips a twig off the branch, tosses it into the trench, and watches it disappear into the lava.

"My existence is slated to cease once I have fulfilled my purpose, and yet I have often wondered what it would be like to continue." Harvey rests his chin on his hands, looking at Talyn but seeming to focus on something in the distance. "I have pondered whether simply existing could be purpose enough."

Talyn lets the hand holding the branch fall to his side and studies Harvey's face. "You mean if you did get the wormhole data, you'd be dead?"

"'Dead' is a bit of an exaggeration. I will simply be... removed from Crichton's brain once the data is delivered to Scorpius."

"Removed and installed somewhere else?"

Harvey shakes his head. "No. The task for which I was created is entirely unique. There can be no other place for me."

"Then you'd be dead. Look, if you're trying to make me feel sorry for you, it's a wasted effort. And if you're saying your cause is right just because you're willing to die for it..." Talyn chuckles. "Then think about who you're talking to."

"I don't have a 'cause,' or even any self-sacrificing notions of morality. I am a mere set of instructions, acting as I must according to my algorithm."

Talyn strips another twig off the branch as he ponders Harvey's words. "Nope. Sorry. I don't believe that. You're a sophisticated AI. You'd have to be if you're supposed to crack open a--" he cringes slightly at the necessity of using Gemmi's term "-- a living consciousness. You'd have to be on par with Cer, and that means you can make your own frelling decisions. So whatever you do to us when you're trying to get that data, it's your own choice."

"And if you choose to oppose me, that is yours. Despite your speculation, I know what determines my actions. What drives yours? Why are you so fiercely attached to the status quo, Talyn? You see what the Scarrans have done to the Kalish--"

"And I've seen what the Kalish do to each other. More importantly, I've seen what the-- no, I _am _what the Peacekeepers have done to my race, to my _mother." _

"If Scorpius had the secrets of wormhole technology, he would be welcomed back into the Peacekeepers--"

"I know!"

"And they would have no more reason to exploit Leviathans as either transports or experimental subjects." Harvey grins. "Do you place your hatred for the Peacekeepers above the freedom of your race?"

"I--" Talyn begins, not sure how the sentence will end. He catches sight of movement behind Harvey and decides he doesn't have to answer the question. Instead, he says, "Ceredin and Bialar are coming back. Maybe they found another way in."

"'Maybe'?" Harvey repeats. "Are you not mentally linked with both of them?"

Talyn looks down, not wanting the clone to look into his eyes and see how much that question hurt. "He can close off the link now, now that I'm... like this. It's not like he's my pilot anymore. Same with Cer. She can have her privacy. I don't mind."

"I see." Harvey turns his body so he faces Bialar and Ceredin as they approach, holding hands. "She's a remarkable creature, Ceredin-- far more interesting than most of the females I encounter in Crichton's memories."

"I guess."

Harvey glances back over his shoulder and snorts. "Of course. You're still thinking like a Leviathan. I wouldn't expect you to notice, but by Sebacean standards--"

"Watch it!" Talyn barks. His right hand twitches, snapping the branch in two with a loud crack. "If you even think about touching her--"

"I'm not the one currently touching her." Harvey smirks. "She modeled her appearance from Gemmina, did she not? Without all of those repulsive scales, of course."

Talyn forces himself to look away from Ceredin, who is now jogging backwards toward them, pulling Bialar by the hand and laughing. He meets Harvey's eyes. "I get what you're doing. You're just lucky Bialar still thinks we might need you."

"Interesting that you hold such loyalty for the man who spearheaded the hybrid project, in essence mandating the protracted and methodical rape--"

Talyn's fist collides with Harvey's cheek, impelled by the same lines of code that once controlled his sonic ascendancy cannon.

The neural clone wipes blood from his mouth with the back of his hand and smiles.

"Oh, Talyn..." Ceredin's voice is filled with sympathy.

When he turns to look at her, he feels his muscles relax and his rage dissipate until it reaches a controllable level. He drops his fist, snatches Ceredin's hand away from Bialar's and pulls her to him. The aura Ceredin radiates reminds him of one of Moyas silent songs, an infrared pattern his mother had used to try to sooth him when he was very young.

Ceredin twists in Talyn's grip until she faces Harvey, and her heat song stops. "What did you do to provoke him?"

"We were merely having a discussion--" Harvey begins.

"Doesn't matter!" Talyn snaps. "Just don't leave me alone with him again. I'm not responsible for what happens to him if you do."

"Let's get on with the process of getting that key." Bialar glances up at the set of balanced cages on the metal bar.

"Oh, yes!" Ceredin laughs and claps her hands together, having freed herself from Talyn. "Tell Talyn your plan-- he needs a laugh. Oh, no, I'm sorry, I have to tell him!" Seeming to have forgotten the fact that Talyn just compromised himself by losing control, she turns to face him and grins. "He wants to dismantle himself, or rather be dismantled."

"What?" Talyn looks blankly from her to Bialar.

Bialar sighs and glares at Ceredin. "We need an object of equivalent weight to the key. I suggested Ceredin trade places with it, but based on her estimations, even her mass would be too much."

Talyn glances up at the beam again. The cage holding Crichton is much closer to the fulcrum than the one that contains the over-sized key. "Yeah, she's right. So you were, what? Going to sacrifice a limb?"

"This--" Bialar gestures to his own body "-- is merely a mental projection."

"That would work..." Talyn tries to keep a straight face, sees Ceredin's smirk, and fails. She has opened the link to him again, and he catches a glimpse of the two of them climbing onto the beam together. He looks at Bialar "You do realize her way would be a lot less messy?"

"You have a suggestion?" Bialar growls. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was too interesting listening to you rationalize how the ancients probably intended it as some sort of moral test to see if we're willing to make sacrifices. I didn't want to interrupt." Ceredin shrugs.

"If it's not a test of our moral worthiness to wield the power of wormholes, then what is it?" Bialar demands.

"I'm not sure." Ceredin tugs on a lock of hair. "But the ancients, they're telepathic beings, aren't they? I don't think Crichton was ever intended to have the knowledge. It's not there for him; that's why what Harvey's doing is driving him fahrbot."

"Who's it for then?" Talyn wonders.

"Later generations. When his descendants have evolved enough to join minds. It's not a test of individual morality; it's there to see if we can cooperate. At least that's my idea."

"And we're bypassing evolution with technology." Talyn nods agreement.

"Or technology is a form of evolution." Ceredin shrugs again.

"So you are proposing what, exactly?" Bialar asks.

"We both get on the beam in the center," Talyn explains. "It has to be me and Cer, because no one else can handle the balance and the calculations. We can move out in opposite directions and still keep the torques equal, compensating for the distance and our separate weights. I pick up the key, she coaxes Crichton out of the cage, and we move back toward the center and onto the walkway that leads to the castle door. You can follow; preferably without Harvey."

"That all assumes Crichton will listen to her." Bialar glances up at the caged Human and shakes his head.

"I think I can knock him unconscious without hurting him," Ceredin offers. "Assuming I can't convince him to come with me."

Bialar locks eyes with Harvey. "What about you? Do you believe they have a viable plan?"

The clone nods. "Assuming they are both capable of maintaining optimal balance."

"Then proceed." Bialar nods to Talyn, then seizes Harvey's arms and pulls them behind his back. "I'll prevent him from interfering."


	20. A Sense of Anticipation

The beam quivers as Talyn and Ceredin both step onto it, and Talyn fights a surge of panic. His brain should be able to do the calculations; this is only simple mechanics, after all, and he once performed the quadratures necessary for starburst on a regular basis. Still, the thought of having to control this awkward body with complete accuracy is enough to make him nauseous. Gemmi would say that's impossible, that bioloids don't experience emotionally triggered physiologic responses. For someone smart enough to bring people back from the dead, Gemmi can be remarkably stupid sometimes. Talyn spreads his arms to stabilize himself and looks at Ceredin to avoid the temptation of staring down into the lava-filled trench.

"It's alright!" Ceredin flashes an encouraging smile. "I'm helping you."

"I know. You have the link open. Now. Mostly." Synchronized, they each take a step back, hers slightly longer than his, and though the beam trembles, the system remains balanced.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asks around a lock of hair that she has shoved into her mouth. They take another simultaneous step in opposite directions.

"You and Bialar, you both had your transponder links closed off to me while you were circling the castle. And there's still something you're not showing me."

This time, when he steps back, the movement of the beam under his feet doesn't bother him; his mind has other reasons to race in circles. _Ceredin is a remarkable creature... I am not the one currently touching her... _Harvey's words ricochet through Talyn's mind as the clone no doubt intended them to. Talyn knows Harvey was trying to create suspicion, attempting to confuse Talyn's loyalties, but still.

"Hm. Is that so unusual? You complain he closes the link a lot lately."

"You were holding his frelling hand, Cer!" Talyn's foot comes down too hard, and he reels to regain his balance. Ceredin twists her body to keep hers, moving as gracefully as a tendril of smoke. "You held onto him on the way here, too, when we came through the wormhole."

"Oh, you're not suggesting..." Ceredin's eyes widen and her body quivers with suppressed laughter. "Talyn, this is not the time to make me laugh!"

"I don't think it's funny."

He moves automatically this time, letting her calculations control his feet. His own mind is too busy imagining what lies in the cordoned off portions of Ceredin's brain. Bialar still has the link closed off, and Talyn wonders if he even wants to probe for the missing memories. Maybe it would be better not to find out, just to take the first chance he can find to get Ceredin alone and finally claim her. If she's even worth claiming, after betraying him.

"You're being paranoid. It's a flaw in your reconnaissance algorithm; you're programmed to see patterns, and then because of your lack of impulse control, you jump to conclusions!"

"Yeah, Velorek was an idiot, Gemmi's a genius. I get it. That doesn't make me wrong. You and Bialar are getting pretty frelling close--"

"I don't expect you to understand." Ceredin shakes her head as they take another step backwards. "And don't bring our respective creators into this."

"Fine. Then explain what's going on behind my back. And in front of my face." His next step backwards causes the beam to dip and he stumbles forward, falling down on one knee and clutching the beam in both hands.

Ceredin adjusts by bending her knees and extending her arms and she nods slowly. "Alright. It's just that before I was installed on the bioloid, I had no means of transporting myself. I was stuck on Gemmi's portable console when the Scorpius clone used your body to attack her. Bialar took me to her, and to you, where I could do something. It doesn't take any more than that to win my friendship, Talyn. I'm only a pseudo-consciousness."

"You're still hiding something." He doesn't bother rising to his feet. His hands clench the beam, knuckles white, and he doesn't trust his balance enough at the moment to let go.

"True. It's... about Mina and some modifications. This isn't the time to discuss it. Once we're out of here and back in our physical bodies, I'll tell you everything. Please just focus for now!"

"You mean once he's already made the changes. He was in charge of the hybrid project in the first place-- it was his orders that made me the frell up I am--"

"You're not--"

"You saw what I did to Harvey, Cer. You said it yourself, I have flaws in my code. Frell, if I were still in my real body, I'd still be killing people by the thousands."

"Mina doesn't have the same flaws. She's being allowed to develop naturally, and she won't be taken away from Moya until she's old enough to be on her own. Besides, she's patterning so much of herself after Gemmi-- can you honestly imagine your sister being dangerous?"

"I don't know." Talyn raises his head to meet her eyes and shrugs his shoulders. "Gemmi's only as dangerous as whoever's holding her leash. I don't like what she's doing with Mina, especially not the parts that are Bialar's ideas."

"Hm. Well, at least I'm not frelling him."

"I guess." Talyn rises slowly to his feet, considering. Making more alterations to Mina is significantly worse, in the scheme of things, than being recreation partners, which makes it likely she's telling the truth. The fact that he feels relieved about that just proves there is something wrong with him. A lot wrong. He grins. "I'm sorry I thought you were."

"Let's just finish this."

They back away from each other in carefully measured steps until Ceredin reaches Crichton's cage.

"The beam is going to tip when I go for the key," Talyn warns. "You holding on?"

Ceredin wraps her fingers around the bars and nods.

Arms extended, Talyn pivots and takes several slow, careful steps. As he does, the beam tilts, bringing him closer to the bottom of the trench so that the heat is staggering. Once he is close enough to reach the cage containing the key, he lurches forward and grabs for the bars. The beam oscillates, and he holds on, squeezing his eyes closed until it stabilizes. Still clutching one of the bars of the cage with one hand, he reaches through and extracts the key with the other. The thing is the size of his thigh, and heavy. He clutches it to his chest, lets go of the bar of the cage, and begins creeping back toward the fulcrum until the beam is nearly horizontal once again.

"Perfect!" Ceredin shouts. She then sticks her head through the bars of the cage and calls to Crichton, "We can help you!"

The voice that replies is filled with desperation bordering on despair. "It's an unresolvable singularity!"

"You say that as if it were a problem." She climbs onto the cage and makes her way to the door, which she swings open with a foot.

Talyn braces himself for the beam to move. Ceredin swings herself inside the cage, and he edges backwards to balance her shifted weight.

"I just need time--" Crichton protests, ignoring her outstretched hand.

"You just need help."

"That's what they all say-- Aeryn, Noranti, even D'Argo. But they can't help. All they can do is stay away."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of solving the problem, Crichton. I'm just hoping I won't have to punch you in the face."

Crichton drops his pen and book and looks up at Ceredin. They're too far away for Talyn to make out the expression on his face. Talyn wonders whether the Human is amused or angry.

"Look behind me," Ceredin urges. "You see Talyn holding that key? That's going to get us inside the Ancients' castle. We're going to see what they really left for you. Can you climb outside the cage and follow me to the center of the beam?"

"Inside..." Crichton repeats. He turns in a slow circle as if aware of his surroundings for the first time.

"Through that door." Ceredin points to the castle's only entrance.

"And once we're through it?"

"You'll be closer to the Ancients' knowledge than you ever have been. That's all I can promise, but it's more than you'll have if you stay here."

"Harvey?"

"We'll handle Harvey!" Talyn promises.

Ceredin nods agreement. "Scorpius won't get the wormhole data, even if he is still alive."

"Alright." Crichton takes Ceredin's hand and lets himself be lead out of the cage and toward the fulcrum of the beam.

Talyn moves forward with the key at the correct rate to keep the beam from tipping, and once the three of them reach the fulcrum, they step off of the beam and onto the walkway leading the castle. Bialar follows with Harvey, still holding the clone by both elbows and pushing him ahead.

Harvey heaves a dramatic sigh, clearly hoping someone will take the bait and speak to him.

Crichton glances over his shoulder at the clone. "What? What is it?"

"As the end grows near, I find I am filled with both a sense of anticipation and a feeling of regret."

"No white picket fence, huh?" Crichton laughs. "Didn't take the time to smell the roses? Give me a break, Harv. You wrecked my chance to have all that with Aeryn."

Ceredin shakes her head and shoots a reproachful glance at Crichton. "Actually, Scorpius is the one responsible for that. You can't blame Harvey for carrying out explicitly programmed instructions."

"I can't believe you're defending him!" Talyn snaps.

Crichton puts a hand on Talyn's shoulder. "Hey, it's a program thing-- we wouldn't understand."

"What?" Ceredin stops with her back to the door and turns to face Crichton. "You're saying I'm only being fair to him because I'm also a pseudo-consciousness?"

Before Crichton can answer, Talyn raises the key and inserts it into the oversized lock. As it clicks into place, everyone goes silent, waiting for him to turn the key and reveal the prize on the other side of the door.

"Talyn?" Bialar prompts. "Do you need assistance?"

"Yeah. Probably." Still holding the key in both hands, Talyn twists his body to face the others. "I need to know what's supposed to happen when we open this door. Whatever's in there, the five of us are going to have access to it. How are we going to keep it out of the wrong hands?"

Crichton raises both hands, palms out. "Look, I just need to solve the puzzle. I don't care about building weapons. Once I know how it works, I think..." He drops his hands to his sides and takes a deep breath. His next words come out in a rush, as if he is forcing himself to say them. "I think you can get rid of the wormhole data and it won't hurt me. I can live without it."

Harvey meets Talyn's eyes, managing to look in control of the situation despite the fact that Bialar is still pinning his arms behind him. "Ceredin is correct; I will act in accordance with my instructions. If your intention is to destroy the Ancients' knowledge, then I will make every attempt to stop you."

"Just open the door, Talyn. Once we have decrypted the information the Ancients have left, we can decide how to handle it." Bialar leans sideways and looks part Harvey, his eyes locking on the key.

Talyn considers yanking the key out of the door and tossing it into the trench, but that would mean being stuck here, inside the Ancients' puzzle with no way out. It would mean leaving Aeryn hovering over Crichton's unresponsive body indefinitely. Gemmi would use her backups, and other versions of Talyn, Ceredin, and Bialar would walk free on Moya, leaving him here, trapped. Driven by the simple need to escape, he turns the key and swings the door open.

The others crowd in behind him, and he takes a step forward into a cylindrical stone chamber lit by fixtures that flicker as if combusting oil. Along the walls, a spiral staircase leads down into a pit so deep they cannot see the bottom.

"I hear something down there." Ceredin mutters.

"Yeah," Talyn agrees. "I do too. Any ideas?"

"Cheesy organ music?" Crichton quips. When Talyn and Ceredin both give him puzzled looks, he shrugs. "I don't hear it yet."

"It's not like any music I've ever heard. More like someone screaming. Or an animal of some sort." Ceredin reaches for Talyn's hand. "Definitely not something I'm programmed to deal with, but I've come this far..." she starts down the staircase, pulling Talyn with her.

Crichton turns sideways and edges around them. "I'm going first. It's my head." He begins to jog down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Ceredin races after him, and Talyn lets himself be pulled along, glancing over his shoulder every few steps and seeing Bialar and Harvey fall farther and farther behind. Once they get to the bottom, Ceredin takes a step back, nearly knocking Talyn over.

"What is it?" Talyn wonders as he grabs Crichton by the arm, preventing the Human from walking any closer to the thing.


	21. Awed and Somehow Empty

Mari-- really Ceredin Mari, and she isn't sure which name she's supposed to be called-- ducks as she follows Sikozu into a maintenance shaft more suited to DRDs than Kalish or Sebacean bodies. She remembers to duck because the last time they moved into a small passageway, she found out the literal meaning of words like "pain" and "hurt". She had previously associated those words with the frustration of a non-converging sequence of iterations or the sense of deprivation whenever Sikozu disconnected her from the transport's sensors. Now she knows there are more concrete forms of pain, like running headlong into a low threshold or having her arm pulled as Sikozu drags her on an evasive course through the Leviathan's most obscure passages.

She remembers Sikozu saying that Scorpius hurt when his cooling mechanism failed, and she wonders if it was tolerable, like the arm-pulling, or as intense as blow to the head. From the way he looked when she last saw him, she guesses the latter, and she hopes the people on this Leviathan-- she doesn't like to think of the name Moya, this bioloid has too many memories connected to that name-- are able to help him.

"It smells strange in here!" She has to say something to fill the silence, as if the sound of her own voice could mute the new voices in her head. "Actually, it's strange to be smelling anything. I'm still trying to integrate the autonomics of this thing, and I haven't even started on the sensory processing--"

Sikozu cranes her neck back to look at the girl and snaps, "Just keep up! Ignore the sensory input. It's not relevant to our objective."

"Hm. And our objective in running through these passages would be..."

"Getting off of this frelling Leviathan in tact, with Crichton, and taking him to the Kalish resistance. Gemmina is a secondary objective, since we may be able to extract the data without her help."

"What about Scorpius? Oh, don't tell me you're just going to leave him--"

"He is a... tertiary objective, Mari."

"Hm." She wonders if that should make her sad or not. The Scorpius she knew had been pleasant enough, less impatient with her than Sikozu, but the memories on this bioloid tell another story. That story is a long one, beginning with a man who looks Sebacean-- but isn't-- falling through a wormhole, and ending with that same man lying on a table in the maintenance bay. She wonders how the story would have ended if the transport hadn't found Moya and if it would have been better than the way it will end now. "I know where Crichton is. I can find Gemmina as well."

After dropping Mari's hand, Sikozu pivots to face her. "Why didn't you tell me? No, never mind that. Where are they?"

Mari raises a hand and with great deliberation, pulls a lock of hair in front of her face. She struggles to balance the output of two conflicting functions. One of them says she must share all potentially useful information with her programmer, and the other says the woman in front of her is not her programmer at all.

"Mari!" Sikozu growls. She takes a deep breath, and her next words come out in a more reasonable tone. "You've done excellent work if you know the location of our objectives. You'll be instrumental in the destruction of the Scarran empire if you simply tell me where they are."

"There's so much I don't understand." Mari closes her eyes for a moment, wrinkling her forehead and shaking her head. "Why am I even on this bioloid?"

"Because its original program was stupid enough to link with me! I stored an image of your consciousness on my own brain, hoping to link with one of Moya's consoles. You're supposed to be on Moya's auxiliary mainframe, gathering data and helping orchestrate our escape. That's still my intention for you."

"She called me 'Ceredin'. I wondered then how she knew the old name you gave me. I thought you must have met Gemmina somewhere, must know her somehow. Now I have to wonder which memories are real."

"What do you mean 'which memories'?"

"The ones associated with my consciousness, or the ones on this bioloid. It's not another instance of my main function, not exactly, but it is a... a version. And until I understand, until I can reconcile--"

"It's a bastardized version!" Sikozu interrupts. "Give it no more thought. I'll remove you from the bioloid once I have the opportunity."

"Hm." Mari tugs on the hair and tilts her head from side to side. Before she was installed on this contraption, she never understood pain or smelled the stench of a Leviathan's waste hold. There are distinct drawbacks to this existence,but if some of those murky memories are real, there are also advantages. There are so many new new sensations, so much possibility for experience. She wasn't programmed to avoid new data, and so the thought of returning to a more limited existence makes her cringe. "What if I want to stay?"

"Then you could be useful to the Kalish resistance, but only if I can be assured of your loyalty. You'll have to let me repair your memories, remove the faulty version of your main function and all the associated data."

Mari shakes her head. "I want to understand it first."

"You're unstable this way," Sikozu argues. "Are you honestly telling me you prefer being a chaotic, illogical tangle of self-contradicting subfunctions?"

"I-- I don't know. Maybe." She remembers a datachip with the image of a consciousness so complex it left her feeling awed and somehow empty. The memory may not be hers, may not even be real, but the feelings it evokes are undeniable. She gives the lock of hair another firm tug and smiles. "Yes. Yes, I think I want to be a-- a frelling mess!"

"Alright!" Sikozu sighs. "As long as you help me find Crichton and Gem--" Her eyes go wide. She snatches Mari's arm again and begins dragging her though the shaft.

The floor beneath their feet vibrates with heavy footsteps coming from behind, and Ceredin struggles to make her body move more quickly. They reach a juncture where the shaft branches in an orthogonal, upward direction.

Sikozu glances up into the shaft and then back at Mari. "Can I trust you?"

"Yes, of course!" She exists to serve her programmer; that lesson is both hard-coded into her main function and burned by repetition into her neural net.

"Find a way to get Crichton and Gemmina to the transport, alive and mentally undamaged. Install yourself on Moya's mainframe and grant me access to all of her systems. If you can get Scorpius and one of the inactive bioloids to the transport, do so." With that, Sikozu scampers up the vertical shaft, defying Moya's artificial gravity.

Mari tries to follow, but her hands and feet slide. She manages to climb a few motras before she falls back down. As she hits the bottom, she learns yet another lesson in pain and lets out a yelp that seems to hasten the footsteps coming toward her. Discarding the idea of following Sikozu, she runs ahead, moving as rapidly as she can while bent almost double.

"Ceredin! Stop!" A woman's voice echoes metallicly through the corridor. It doesn't sound angry, just cold and serious.

Mari feels a twisting sensation in her mid-section and her skin feels simultaneously hot and cold. These strange, unpleasant new feelings accompany the thought of a pulse blast, and she realizes this must be fear. Despite the agony of falling, the residual ache from running into the doorway, and the hideous feeling of fear itself, she is terrified of losing this new existence and so she stops and turns around to face her pursuer.

"Oh, put the pulse pistol down, Aeryn. You know I'm not dangerous." It's what the bioloid's previous occupant would have said, and it feels right, somehow.

Aeryn looks unconvinced, but lowers her weapon to her side. "Where's Sikozu?"

"She didn't tell me where she was going."

"Cer?" A different voice comes from behind Aeryn, and a man pushes past her. He moves slowly toward Mari, his eyes searching her face.

"Keep the link closed, Talyn!" Aeryn warns. "We don't know what's been done to her."

"I know." Talyn glances back over his shoulder. "Just work on tracking down Sikozu. I can take care of Cer." He stops and reaches out a hand toward Mari is if expecting her to take it. "Come on. I'll take you to Gemmi."

She considers running. Talyn doesn't appear to be armed, and his larger size should prove a hindrance when moving through the maintenance shafts. She might be able to evade him long enough to access Moya's mainframe and comply with at least one of Sikozu's requests.

"You remember me, don't you?" Talyn's mouth tightens with a frustration bordering on rage, but his large, dark eyes show hurt.

He looks like Sikozu did after each time Scorpius had a spell of heat delirium, and Mari finds herself unable to flee. Instead, she extends her own hand and wraps it around his. "Oh, how can you ask that? Of course I remember you!"

And it's true, in a way, she does remember him, both as an odd young man and as the consciousness from Gemmina's datachip.

Talyn yanks hard on her already sore arm, pulling her close and then crushing her body against his. He kisses her lips and then her forehead. "I didn't know what happened. Noranti said you collapsed after you tried to link with Sikozu. I thought maybe she'd done something to you like she did to me."

Mari presses her face against Talyn's chest, not wanting him to see her expression. She doesn't believe those memories; they have to be some kind of trick. Her programmer could never harm someone that way, could never destroy a living consciousness. Not unless she had no other choice. Or unless she had to do it in order to meet her objective.

Probably mistaking her gesture for some sort of need to be comforted, Talyn stokes her hair with one hand and squeezes her hand with the other. "There is something wrong with you, isn't there? It's ok, Cer, I'll take you to Gemmi and she'll fix you."

"No!" Mari leans back and shakes her head hard. Her mind races for an excuse, anything that would explain her reluctance to let that woman tamper with her mind. Her own thoughts are useless, so she fishes through the bioloid's memories until she finds something of value. "This isn't the time. Gemmi's busy with Mina."

"Frell that. Mina doesn't need her; she's supposed to be born just like any other Leviathan. Gemmi can make time for you!"

Mari tilts her head to one side, taking in every detail of Talyn's expression. He must love her, the consciousness that was on this bioloid. In taking her place, Mari has come between them, and she feels a burning sensation in the back of her neck along with a heaviness to her body, as if her density has just increased by a factor of three. Guilt. Perhaps Sikozu is correct, and she should allow herself to be removed from this body, but not yet, and not by Gemmina.

She flashes a genuine smile at Talyn and shakes her head again. "I'm fine. I don't need Gemmi now. I just need--" _Access to Moya's mainframe. A clear path from the maintenance bay to the transport. A way to separate Gemmina from her bioloid mate and the infant Leviathan. _She can't say any of those things, of course, so she brings her lips close to his ear and finishes with "-- to remember why I wanted to be on this bioloid."

She reaches up under his shirt to touch his chest, liking the way he feels almost as much as she disliked falling down the shaft. The bioloid's memories flow into her, threaten to overwhelm her. She pushes them out of her mind; she wants to make her own memories to take with her if she does allow herself to be removed.

Talyn chuckles, pulls her hand out from under his shirt, and kisses the back of it. "Not here. I'm still enough of a Leviathan that I'm not wild about small spaces."

"Hm. You still came looking for us. For me."

"Yeah, but that was different. I had something to focus on. Now that I've found you... this is starting to feel too much like the inside of a budong."

"Oh, alright!" Mari rolls her eyes and lets him lead her by the hand.

After several macrots, his hand tightens painfully on hers and he shakes his head as if answering a question with a vehement negative.

"Talyn?" she prompts.

Still moving forward, he cranes his neck back to look at her. "Bialar thinks I should disable you!"

"That's not necessary." She smiles and shakes her head, ignoring the now-familiar sensation of fear.

"I know. He's being overprotective. But it would only be until Gemmi can run diagnostics-- Frell!"

"What?"

Talyn doesn't answer her. Instead, a voice comes over his comm, sounding on the verge of panic. _"Moya's sensor's detect two Scarran strykers, and she is unable to starburst this close to the birth." _

"Pilot, Cer and I are on our way to the styker!" Talyn replies. He then turns back to look at Mari again. "I may need your help if there are any mechanical problems. Can I trust you?"

"Just run!" She puts a hand between his shoulder blades and urges him forward, following on his heels.

**Author's note: **I am appreciate of-- and slightly surprised at-- the several loyal readers I have on . Thanks for reading Continuity/Singularity. I would love to hear from you.


	22. Ends More Important

Bialar descends the stone steps, still holding the neural clone by both elbows and pushing him ahead. Crichton, Talyn, and Ceredin have probably reached the bottom of the stairs by now, unencumbered by the necessity of restraining someone. He jerks upwards on Harvey's arms, hoping perhaps discomfort will motivate him to increase the pace.

Instead, Harvey pauses and cranes his neck to regard Bialar with a deceptively vacuous smile. "Scorpius is more pragmatic than vindictive, at least in regard to minor matters."

"By which you mean he will forget a grievance long enough to further his interests. That does not make him a potential ally."

"You forget-- I know everything Crichton does. I have seen the hybrid and I have listened to Gemmina's assurance that its development will not be artificially accelerated to the degree that Talyn's was." Still refusing to move forward, Harvey twists his body and locks eyes with Bialar.

"Your point?"

"Given Moya's propensity for placing herself in danger, it is unlikely your project will live long enough to come to fruition. Unless, of course, she has proper protection."

"And Scorpius would offer me such protection?" Bialar snorts. "In exchange for what?"

"Make no attempt to stop me when I seize control of Crichton's body. Once his mind has obtained the wormhole data, I need to transport him to Scorpius for analysis and removal."

"You are asking me to betray the man who helped recover Gemmi from the Kalish medical facility, and to break my word to Aeryn Sun."

Harvey raises both eyebrows. "Your loyalty is as touching as it is misdirected. Crichton would not be harmed in the process. Does being loyal to the man necessarily imply adherence to his naïve ideals? He knows nothing of the atrocities of the Scarran empire. He fears the idea of one man having the power to destroy worlds and so he would condemn thousands of planets to a slow, protracted death in a senseless war."

"Do you know where Scorpius is?" Bialar asks. He has no wish to be drawn into a debate with the clone.

"My sense of him is weak, and yet, I believe he is close." Harvey shrugs. "I may need assistance in finding him."

"I fail to see how any of this aligns with your interests. If you were to allow us to remove the wormhole data, could you not continue your existence indefinitely?"

"Did you not once decide that there are ends more important than a continued existence?" Harvey's smile broadens into one of genuine humor.

"Ends you now ask me to betray. And--" He closes his eyes for a microt, struggling to formulate the words he has never said, not even to Gemmi or Talyn. "--I was wrong. Had I considered the possibilities for Talyn's consciousness and for my own legacy, I would have sought another way to destroy the command carrier. I acted out of a despair brought on by Talyn's failure."

"Yet you accomplished your ends and continued your existence." Harvey's words come out in a petulant tone that sounds almost childish.

"And I will not allow you to jeopardize either. Move." Bialar pushes, and Harvey stumbles forward.

As they continue their descent, Bialar ponders Harvey's request. If the clone were to gain control of Crichton's body and the wormhole data, he could then serve as bait for Scorpius, who could finally be destroyed. Gemmi might then be able to extract the data from Cricthon's mind, although disabling Harvey would be problematic if not impossible. He shakes his head slightly, dismissing the idea. Better to let Ceredin transfer the data to her own mind and remove every remnant from Crichton's.

When they are close to the bottom, Talyn calls up, "I'm not frelling Gemmi!"

Bialar laughs, then worries that the non sequitor could be an indication of some sort of malfunction. He leans around Harvey to look at Ceredin and asks, "Is there something wrong with him?"

Talyn points a finger at Harvey. "There's nothing wrong with me. He's trying to turn us against each other."

"Apparently he gave Talyn some ideas about us," Ceredin adds, wrinkling her nose and shuddering theatrically. "I suggest you not go digging in his mind, Bialar. Some of the things his imagination dreamed up were, well, either amusing or disturbing, depending on how you look at it."

"I believe I prefer not to look at it," he mutters.

At the moment, he would prefer not to look at Ceredin. The biomechanoid body currently stuffed into a Peacekeeper uniform is both similar enough to Gemmi's that is has a pleasant familiarity and different enough that it seems intriguing. The smirk on Ceredin's face makes him wonder just what she glimpsed in Talyn's paranoid fantasies. Despite the fact that she is everything he once sought in his recreation partners-- attractive, intelligent, and most importantly, pliable-- the thought of recreating with Ceredin is slightly more revolting than alluring, almost as if she were a close relative.

He shoves Harvey forward with more force than necessary. "You insult Talyn's intelligence with such a juvenile tactic. No wonder he lost his temper with you."

"You and the girl are hiding something!" Harvey snaps. "I simply misconstrued your obvious collusion."

"You vastly underestimate Ceredin's utility." Bialar smiles to himself, enjoying the advantage he has over even this ghost of his enemy. Where Harvey sees a pretty Sebacean girl, Bialar sees a pseudo-consciousness capable of delivering the wormhole data to Mina's data spools.

"Perhaps I do." Harvey shrugs.

They have reached the bottom of the stairs, where Crichton, Talyn, and Ceredin all stand with their backs to the wall, looking across a large chamber at an alien creature.

"Talyn, does it match anything from your species database?" Bialar asks.

Talyn shakes his head. "Crichton says it's a dragon."

"Dragon?" Bialar repeats. "An Earth animal, I assume?"

The creature is at least ten times the size of a Sebacean and lays curled like an animal, its long-snouted head resting on one taloned paw. A tail as long as its body curls around to touch the tip of its nose. A heavy metal collar encircles its muscular neck, fastened to a chain that is anchored to the wall. In the flickering light, its scales glisten like iridescent jewels, and though she would no doubt be offended at the comparison, the dragon's scales remind him of parts of Gemmi's skin. Crichton once mused that his own species might be related to Sebaceans, so perhaps the other species on his planet could share a genetic link with the Kalish.

"Not exactly." Crichton chuckles. "It's a myth. They're supposed to guard things, but only in stories for little kids. I guess the ancients dug pretty deep into my memories."

"I think its gone to sleep," Ceredin says. "They won't let me go try to talk to it." She jerks her head toward Talyn, then Crichton, and rolls her eyes.

"Is it sentient?" Bialar wonders.

"Dunno!" Crichton throws up his hands. "Depends on which story you're reading. Even if it is, though, it's more likely to eat you than have a chat with you. If we all rush it, one of us might get through."

"I don't think the Ancients intended us to 'rush it'!" Ceredin protests. "The hedge maze was a test of patience, the cages were a test of cooperation. And now you expect them to reward us for brute violence?"

"I don't expect god-like aliens to make sense, Lisa. Maybe they don't care how we get around it. Look, you said before the whole point was to keep me out. It could be programmed to unlock after a set number of generations, or after something changes in the DNA. We're not playing a game. What we're doing is more like robbing a bank. It's not about doing what they wanted us to do. It's about doing something that works because they didn't expect it."

"He's right, Cer." Talyn folds his arms across his chest. "One of us should be able to snap its neck if Crichton can distract it long enough for us to jump on it."

"And what if the dragon has, oh, I don't know, a passcode we need to retrieve the data? You're talking about destroying a-- a representation of a conscious being. That's a loss of information that could be irretrievable. Harvey, surely you agree with me?"

The clone tilts his head from side to side and wriggles his arms, emphasizing the fact that Bialar is still holding onto them. "My agreement would hardly strengthen your argument."

Bialar looks from the reptilian creature to Crichton and Talyn. He shakes his head emphatically. "Attacking it head-on, unarmed would be unwise."

"Unless you've got a better idea--" Crichton begins.

"I do." Bialar releases Harvey and shoves him toward Ceredin. "Hold him," he instructs her.

"If I must," Ceredin agrees. After seizing Harvey by the wrists, she stands on her toes, brings her face close to the clone's ear and murmurs, "Nothing personal, you understand. If I could simply fix a few lines of your code, I would."

Bialar moves a hand to the back of his neck and removes the transponder from its socket. He holds the device up and looks at Talyn. "Could you attempt to install it in the dragon?"

"I guess." Talyn shrugs. "Sounds about as hard as breaking its neck."

"Killing it would not give us control over it. This will." Bialar takes a step toward Talyn and presses the transponder into his hand. "Crichton, can you help me provide a distraction?"

"Why not? What do you say, Talyn?"

Talyn turns the transponder over in his hand and looks from it to the dragon. "There's no way to know if it'll even work on a sub-sentient being."

"Oh, for the love of reason, it works on me and I'm a psuedo-consciousness!" Ceredin rolls her eyes. "I'll do it if you don't want to. I'd rather stab the dragon with a transponder than babysit Harvey."

"No!" Talyn barks. He shakes his head and adds in a softer tone, "He's safer with you than with me." He looks from Crichton to Bialar and nods. "Let's get it over with."


	23. To Unlock It

The airlock to Mina's command deck slides closed, and Gemmi murmurs, "Very good. Now, life support?"

Bialar feels a subtle shift in the vibration of the floor as more of the hybrid's machinery becomes active. Above his head, air vents rattle as atmospheric gases hiss through them for the first time. Lights on various instrument panels blink on, their glow steady and reassuring.

Gemmi turns in a slow circle, her eyes only half focused on her surroundings, her lips slightly parted. "This is so much more exciting than anything I've done with bioloids. Ah, no offense, I mean, it's just... she's amazing, Bialar."

He nods agreement, half wishing he had modified his own transponder so he could experience the transition first hand. There will be other opportunities, he reminds himself. The gunship genes are engineered to be dominant, and Mina's offspring will all be exquisite, assuming she lives to produce them.

"I can think of no one better to guide Mina." Bialar takes one of Gemmi's hands and squeezes it for a moment before making his way to the hatch leading to the lower deck.

"You can stay--" Gemmi begins.

"No. Several of Moya's DRD's are still on the lower deck. I can direct them if there are any problems with the physical modifications."

"Of course." Gemmi flashes a misty-eyed grin. "Mina says to thank you for taking care of her."

Bialar nods and quickly turns before Gemmi can study his face more carefully. Once he has closed the hatch behind him and descended the ladder, he taps his comm. "Pilot, how long until the strykers arrive?"

"_Less than an arn. I assume Mina remains unaware of the threat?" _

"I have managed to keep it from Gemmi, thanks to your discretion. How long until the birth?"

"_The process has already begun. Moya's systems are disengaging from Mina's. Moya requests that you disengage the singularity drive." _

"And remove Mina's only means of escape?"

"_Mina will stay protected by remaining within the field of Moya's defense screen. If she becomes frightened and uses the singularity drive to flee, Moya fears that we will lose her." _

"Tell Moya that I will act in Mina's best interests, Pilot." With that, he ends the comm transmission and opens another. "D'Argo?"

"_Yes?" _

"Is Lola in place?"

"_Stop being a frelling mother grimmet, Crais! Lola can handle the strykers. She's cloaked. They won't know what hit--" _

The Luxan's boast cuts short just as the floor under Bialar's feet seems to lurch. He reaches instinctively for one of the pipes above his head and clutches it to keep his balance. Strong vibrations make it difficult to keep his grip. Mina twists, throwing him against a wall, and then spins so that he is flung against the ceiling. He wonders how badly Gemmi is hurt, even as he falls onto the floor after yet another change in Mina's orientation.

"_She's beautiful." _D'Argo's voice comes over the comm in a tone of quiet awe. _"I'm flanking her now. She's between Lola and Moya." _

"_Bialar? You and Gemmi alright?" _Talyn asks, using the comm instead of the link. _"I saw Mina come out spinning." _

"I'm fine, Talyn. I am going to check on Gemmi now. Is your stryker ready for a battle?"

"_Yeah. Would have been nice to do some practice shots first, but I think we've got it up and running. I'm linked into the weapons and flight controls. Cer can do any emergency mechanical adjustments." _

"Very good." Bialar opens a third and final comm channel. "Aeryn?"

"_In position. They won't get past us." _

"Aeryn..." He searches futilely for words to express how much he regrets asking even this of her, when he has failed her in so many ways. He thinks of Crichton, still laying in the maintenance bay, guarded only by Chiana, Noranti, and Rygel, with Sikozu hiding somewhere on Moya. Adequate words elude him, and he simply says, "Thank you."

"_It's... good to be doing my job." _Aeryn cuts the comm channel.

Bialar ends the transmissions with Talyn and D'Argo and ascends to Mina's upper deck. When he catches sight of Gemmi leaning against the rear wall, he quickly closes the distance between them and kneels beside her.

"I'm fine," she promises, flashing a tight smile.

"No, you're not." A lump has risen on one side of her forehead, and blood trickles from a split lip. When he reaches for her shoulder, she leans away as if afraid of being touched.

"Stupid of me, really. I should have been holding onto something. But it's nothing that won't heal. It would help if you told Mina that. She won't believe it, not from me, I mean. She feels terrible."

He runs his hands firmly over Gemmi's body, eliciting pained gasps, but not the screams he would expect if she had broken a bone. He turns to face the command consoles, not knowing exactly where Mina's visual sensors are, and nods. "Gemmi will recover soon, Mina. You have no reason to worry for her as long as you stay close to Moya."

The ship responds with a wary sequence of chirps and a faint dimming of her display lights.

"She wants to know why the other ships are trapping her," Gemmi translates. She takes him by the shoulder and turns him back to face her. "Sikozu was right about the Scarran strykers, wasn't she?"

"Mina has sufficient protection. I thought it best not to alarm her."

A short, indignant burst of sound issues from Mina's speakers.

Gemmi raises both eyebrows in surprise and gives Bialar a puzzled look. "She says she doesn't need protection. Have you done something to her? Armed her already, I mean?"

"The only alteration I have made is installing the singularity drive. She needs no protection because she could easily outrun the strykers, but you need to convince her to stay close to Moya. I believe Talyn's early separation may have contributed to his developmental problems."

"I don't think she has any intention of leaving Moya. It's hard to read her though, hard to search for thoughts in all that data." Flinching at the pain of moving her limbs, Gemmi puts both hands on Bialar's shoulders and squeezes. "Help me up. I need to see the sensor display and viewscreen."

He cups her elbows in his hands and stands up, pulling her with him. "I should take you to your living quarters. There is nothing Mina needs to do."

"She needs to know her pilot is aware of what's going on. She believed you when you said I'm fine. Don't confuse her by treating me like a broken negnik."

After he pulls his hands away from her elbows, she stumbles and then moves across the deck at a slow, careful pace, wincing with each step. Letting her demonstrate her independence, he crosses the command deck in a few long strides and rests his palms on the display console. He watches two objects as they streak across the sensor screen and then come into view on the main screen.

"Lola is between us and the Scarran vessels, cloaked and shielded," he tells Gemmi. "Talyn's stryker and Aeryn's prowler are on either side."

"Aeryn's prowler..." Gemmi bites her lip and shakes her head. "That craft isn't a match for any scarran vessel, you should comm her, order her back inside Moya."

"I once commanded Aeryn Sun, Gemmi. I would match her flight skills against those of any Scarran. Besides, I have no authority over her now. Her life is not mine to risk or to protect."

Mina makes a soft, forlorn series of beeps, and Gemmi translates, "She's worried there won't be enough time."

"Time for what?"

"I don't know! Mina has literally thousands of processes running at the moment. She's calling functions she inherited from Moya. They're not things I understand. Ceredin?"

The hologram blinks into existence above the console already shaking her head. "This is all new to me. I have no idea what she's doing. Oh, you don't have to worry. She isn't invoking any of Velorek's scripts. Even if the sonic ascendancy cannon were active—and it isn't-- she's not even trying to control her weapons systems."

"Thanks, Cer." For a microt, Gemmi's face relaxes into a relieved smile, but that smile fades as she studies the view screen.

The first Scarran stryker fires an energy blast that hits Lola's shield and refracts in all directions. D'Argo returns fire, but the stryker dodges the pulse beam easily. Talyn and Aeryn fire several shots each, but the strykers dart around the oncoming fire as easily as a child might evade a thrown ball. As the Scarrans return fire, Talyn mimics their evasive maneuvers and D'Argo keeps Lola positioned between Mina and the strykers. To Bialar's surprise, Aeryn retreats out of view, positioning herself between Moya and Mina.

"They're targeting Mina," Gemmi whispers, looking horrified. Her eyes shine with the beginnings of tears as she glances away from the viewscreen to look at Bialar. "They can't possibly know she's a hybrid, so why?"

"They must have orders to retrieve Moya. A Leviathan can't starburst easily with an infant in tow. Removing Mina also makes Moya less unpredictable. Even with a control collar, a Leviathan may behave inconveniently if she is protecting a child."

"So it's all logical, then? Killing a newborn, I mean. When you were a Peacekeeper, did you ever-- No. I don't want to know."

"No." He puts one hand between her shoulder blades and the other on the wall, stretching to reach a part of Mina that has tactile receptors. To his own surprise, he finds himself wishing he could say something that sounds noble, but because of the link with Gemmi, his only option is the simple truth. "Leviathans were too valuable a resource to waste. If I lost men in the capture of a mother Leviathan with her offspring, I considered it an acceptable loss."

Mina beeps an unintelligible response.

"She-- she feels sorry for you," Gemmi whispers.

On the viewscreen, Talyn is trading intense fire with one of the Scarran strykers. The other has focused on Lola, pummeling her with energy blasts. The Luxan ship's cloaking device is beginning to flicker, and the brief glimpses of the craft only encourage the Scarrans to further concentrate their fire.

Aeyrn's prowler darts from beneath Mina, hitting the underbelly of the Scarran stryker with a pulse blast and knocking it back. The stryker spins, head over tail, and Lola presses the attack, rapidly firing at the newly vulnerable enemy.

"Impressive," Gemmi mutters.

Aeryn now engages the stryker that is firing on Talyn, but this time her pulse blast only glances off the vessel's hull. The stryker uses a rear gun to retaliate while still trading fire with Talyn. Its blast hits the prowler's canon, leaving Aeryn's craft defenseless. Bialar feels as if a part of himself has been severed, and he stares at the view screen with every expectation of seeing the prowler shattered.

"Can you feel that?" Gemmi asks, her voice filled not with the sympathy he expects, but with awe. "Mina says she's ready."

"Ready for--" He falls silent, too shocked by what he sees on the view screen to finish his thought.

At first, Bialar believes that Mina's actions have resulted in a malfunction of the viewscreen, which no longer allows him to see the stars, let alone follow the movements of the other ships. On closer inspection, he realizes that what he sees is the metallic surface of Lola's hull, which means the cloaking device has failed altogether. He looks down at the sensor screen, expecting evidence of disaster, but instead he sees four craft that have gone completely static.

"Did you--" Gemmi begins.

"Absolutely not." Bialar shakes his head emphatically. "Had I known she had this capability, I would have ordered her to use it on the Scarrans while keeping everyone else at a safe distance."

Mina makes a vocalization that sounds like an attempt at reassurance.

"The EMP didn't harm any passengers. Which makes sense, of course, since they are enclosed in a continuous conductor." Gemmi grins at Bialar and then moves to lean on Mina's wall, nuzzling her cheek against the hybrid's biomechanoid skin. "Very good, Mina."

"Frelling brilliant!" Ceredin agrees. "And I didn't program it, so don't bother asking. It's not Velorek's code either. In fact, I've isolated the patterns and they don't look programmed at all."

"I don't understand." Gemmi leans back against the wall and folds her arms across her chest. "Bialar and I have been trough every cubic dench of Mina and we never found hardware that could do this!"

"Hm. I think that's because it's not a matter of hardware, per se. Mina disabled the ships with a concerted synaptic pulse. It's a function of her living system, not her mechanical augmentation."

"What about Moya?" Bialar asks. "Is she disabled as well?"

"Moya's immune." Preempting his question, Gemmi raises her hands, palms out, and shakes her head. "Don't ask me how! There's something about the frequency of Mina's EMP that makes biomechanoids resistant to it."

"Then you've managed to unlock it." Forgetting Gemmi's injuries, Bialar grabs her shoulders and brings her close for a brief, hard, kiss that elicits a muffled yelp from her.

"It?" Gemmi repeats. "You know more than you're telling me."

"Yes," he agrees. "What I don't know is what to do with those Scarran strykers."


	24. The Advent of the Atavist

"What the frell was that?" Talyn demands.

"I don't--" Mari begins. When she realizes Talyn is speaking into his comm and not to her, she closes her mouth and continues pouring over the open panel in front of her, searching for shorted components.

"_The advent of the Atavist, Talyn!" _Bialar's voice answers in a tone of near-manic excitement.

"Oh, frell." Talyn claps his hands to the sides of his head as if trying to squeeze out an unpleasant thought. "You're not still thinking about that dren, are you? No, never mind. Just tell me what the frell happened."

"_Mina fired an EMP, which puts you at an advantage if you can repair your systems before the Scarrans repair theirs."_

"Got it. Once Cer brings the mainframe back online, I can tell what's been fried. I'm still linked to the stryker's weapons guidance system." He fingers the cord trailing from the back of his neck and frowns. "I'm physically connected. I shouldn't have survived that pulse."

"_Mina has the ability to distinguish between biomechanoids and non-sentient devices, as is to be expected from the mythology surrounding the Atavist--" _

"_It's nothing mystic!" _Gemmi interrupts. _"Your brain has a frequency filter that protects you from the specific electromagnetic pattern that Mina uses. It's not that she actively excluded you or Moya from the attack!"_

"Makes sense. How is she? Doing this didn't hurt her, did it?"

A faint string of beeps can be heard over the comm, and Gemmi answers, _"She's... a bit confused. She doesn't know what all the fuss is about. And she wants you to make the Scarrans go away."_

"That I can do." Talyn flashes a grim smile that twists into a haunted expression, making Mari wish she could drop the soldering gun and hold him. "Gemmi... does Mina know the difference between stories and what's real?"

"_I don't know. I think that's a bit much to expect of an infant, Talyn. Even an infant Leviathan." _

"She has to know the difference. You have to help her, Gemmi. Bialar's about to start filling her neural cluster with a lot of dren." Before Bialar can respond, Talyn cuts the comm transmission.

"What's the Atavist?" Mari asks, glancing up at Talyn without pausing in her work.

"A load of dren. I'm not going to talk about it."

"Hm. Mainframe is online." Mari replaces the cover on the console and stands.

"Alright." On the view screen, a diagram of the stryker's electrical system appears. "The dead circuits are here and here." Two spots on the diagram begin flashing as Talyn points to them. "I need to stay linked with the mainframe, so you're going to have to do the repairs."

Mari nods and takes the tool kit Talyn hands her. After accessing Ceredin's memories, she finds a panel at the rear of the cockpit, removes it, and quickly replaces the overloaded components. As soon as she finishes soldering the connection, she feels the stryker shudder with the recoil of its cannon.

When she turns around, glistening bits of metallic detritus float past the view screen of Talyn's stryker. Mari shudders when she glimpses the frozen, eviscerated corpse of a Scarran intermingled with the pieces of metal and polymer.

Talyn flips a switch on the control console and the view screen goes black. After yanking the cord from his neck, he turns his back to the console, sinks to the floor, and cradles his forehead in one hand.

Mari kneels next to him and takes his other hand in both of hers.

"I guess killing is still what I do best." He laughs humorlessly. "You analyze data, I blow things up. It's what we were programmed to do."

"You were defending Moya and Mina, your--" she wrestles with the words, still finding it strange to think that this man was once a living ship "-- your mother and sister."

"They were unarmed, Cer. But when I thought about them attacking Mina, I couldn't think of any other way to act. I lost control. I guess I'll always be a rabid drannit."

Mari shakes her head and closes her eyes, letting her mind rifle through Ceredin's memories of Talyn. She sees him methodically repairing the stryker, puzzling over the calculations for the singularity drive, and pushing Ceredin away for fear of hurting her. "I don't believe that. Oh, I know your history, and I know who shaped so many of your patterns. But you're more than the moments when you lose control."

He surprises her by pulling her onto his lap and holding her head against his chest. His other hand moves up and down her back in a way that makes her decide she can't bear to leave this body, and frell its original occupant. She wriggles away from him long enough to pull off her shirt and then settles back against him, hoping he'll continue touching her without the fabric to get in the way.

Instead, he takes her by the shoulders and pushes her out to arm's length. "If you stay close to me now, I can't push you away. I need you too much. Are you sure?"

"Sure of..." She frowns and tilts her head to one side. After a microt of staring at his awkward expression, she realizes that by removing an article of clothing, she has just made a a non-verbal offer. "Oh. Yes. Of course." She rearranges her legs so she straddles his lap and smiles, enjoying the contact of their lower bodies as much as the feel of his hands on her skin.

"If we're going to do this, you have to let me in."

"I'm not stopping you." She laughs and raises an eyebrow.

Talyn shakes his head and lowers his eyes from hers, looking embarrassed. "No, I mean the link. You have to open it again."

The wave of frustration that fills her is almost as painful as falling from the maintenance shaft. She cannot allow him to see her thoughts; once he realizes she isn't this bioloid's original program, Sikozu will be betrayed and Talyn will hate her. She isn't sure which thought is more frightening, and she shakes her head hard, as if she could fling those ideas away. "After what happened with Sikozu? I don't think it's safe for us to be linked that way, not when we don't know what could be in my head."

He moves one hand up to the back of her head and pulls her toward him until their foreheads touch. "It's ok-- I trust you. I want to be close with you."

"These bioloids are Sebacean, Talyn. I don't think they need additional technology to function." She reaches down to undo the front of his pants in order to make her point.

"I'm not Sebacean."

When she hears the stubborn tone of his voice, her smile fades along with her enthusiasm. She slides off of his lap and folds her arms under her breasts. "Your point?"

"With Leviathans, it isn't just a matter of fluid transfer. There's a data exchange as well. Mechanically, there are two connections made--"

"I see," she interrupts, not wanting to hear more. "Not that I really like thinking about a Leviathan's reproductive organs."

Talyn laughs. "Now you know how I feel about this!" He gestures to his own body and then to hers.

"But I thought you wanted to--"

"I do. That makes it even weirder. You're a-- the word doesn't even translate. One of the soft-bodied creatures, those we carry. And I want to recreate with you. That makes me completely fahrbot."

"Hm. But not without the link?" Even as she asks, she reaches for her shirt and slips it back over her head.

"Sorry."

"Is that why you gave me the transponder in the first place?" She remembers being someone else and being in this body for the first time. Talyn had taken Ceredin outside, into the void, and pressed the metallic spike into the back of her neck. She had called it the key to his soul, and he had laughed at her for being melodramatic.

"No. That's not the reason, not all of it." He puts his hands on her shoulders again, but this time he pushes her down against the floor and leans over her, pinning her under his weight. "Let me in. Let me show you."

She can feel the pressure of his data streams on her mental barriers, and when her mouth opens, she has no idea what words will come out. "No. It's not safe for you to link with me now. Just tell me what you want to say."

He jerks his hands back from her, stands, and walks to the other side of the room. "Alright. When I linked with you, it was because I needed a pilot. Ever since Bialar linked with Gemmi, he's... different. Frell, it's different now anyway. He uses the link like a comm, not like it was meant to be. I wasn't designed to be on my own; there's something in me that looks for a guide, and I found you. You're my pilot, Cer."

"Oh." Mari's hologram could manifest tears, so she isn't surprised at the streams of sterile electrolytic fluid that course down her cheeks, but she is unprepared for the associated stinging in her eyes. It makes the tears worse, and when she takes a breath, her lungs shudder as if on the verge of failing. "I think I understand. And I think-- I know-- I could have loved you."

"Cer? What is it?"

"I can't do this. I can't stay here. Just take me to Gemmina-- to Gemmi now. Let her run diagnostics and let her--" Mari takes another shuddering breath. "Let her fix the problem."

Talyn nods. "We can meet her in her in the maintenance bay. She'll want to check on Crichton anyway."

"In the maintenance bay," Mari repeats, watching Talyn move to the control console of the stryker.

Funny that her life will have begun and ended in the same location. For a moment, she contemplates asking Gemmina to transfer her to a datachip or even to reinstall her on the transport, but she decides that would be worse than ceasing to exist altogether. She doesn't want to be trapped on a console, not after knowing what it feels like to be... this. She runs one hand over the back of the other, suddenly aware of the pleasure inherent in even the simplest act of living.

"Pilot?" Talyn speaks to his comm. When he gets no response, he repeats, "Pilot? Moya's not opening the docking bay for us. Is she alright?"

"_Talyn," _a familiar female voice replies. _"I control all of Moya's systems now." _

"Sikozu," Mari mutters under her breath.

"Yeah, I know, I know-- I should have let you reprogram her." Talyn pounds the console with a fist and shouts into the comm, "What about Chiana, Rygel, and Noranti? What about Crichton?"

"_All in the same condition I found them in, with the former three being locked in cells. Crichton is safely loaded onto my transport. I'm sending one of Moya's transport pods for Gemmina. I trust you not to interfere." _

"Which means you think you have leverage. Make your threat."

"_If we must resort to the absolute basest level..." _Sikozu heaves a sigh. _"I've removed a negative feedback circuit from Moya's starburst chamber. I have also left instructions for how to repair it. However, if anyone interferes with me or attempts to prevent me from taking Gemmina and Crichton..." _

"Frell." Talyn hits the console again, sending vibrations through the floor of the stryker.

"_Can I count on you to make the others aware of the situation? Aeryn, D'Argo, and Crais are to remain in their respective vessels." _

Talyn cuts the comm channel and pivots to face Mari. "You think she's telling the truth?"

Mari nods. "I know she is."

"Then it's not worth it. We let her take them, we make the repair and then we hunt her down."

"You're risking Crichton's life. Scorpius doesn't care what happens to him. I don't know if his mind will survive the data collection process, and I don't know what Scorpius will do to Gemmina if she refuses to cooperate."

"So we let her blow up Moya? Is that your answer?" Talyn clenches and unclenches his fists, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"No. I think I can undo the damage if I can just get to Moya. At least, I can give Pilot access to Moya's controls again. I know exactly what Sikozu did."

"How?"

"Because she didn't do it." Mari closes her eyes, expecting her next words to elicit a blow. "I did."

She sees a flash of light behind her eyelids as the back of her head slams into the wall of the stryker. Talyn holds her by the shoulders, his face close to hers. The expected assault comes not as a physical attack, but as a datastream that shatters her defenses. His mind tears through hers, ripping open memories and scattering her thoughts until they feel like the remains of the Scarran strykers. She feels her own lips moving, hears her own voice saying, "Please, stop," over and over again.

After a macrot that feels like a solar day, Talyn lets his hands fall to his sides and slams the link closed. "You're the corrupted version."

"I-- Yes." She lowers her eyes, not wanting to meet his. "I see that now. That's why I was-- why I am-- going to let Gemmi remove me from the bioloid. But for now, I can help Moya. Please, let me help."

He nods slowly. "I should make you send the comm, own up to everyone, tell Gemmi how you back stabbed her, tell Mina how a version of you sabotaged her mother."

"I will--"

"No, you won't. You won't tell anyone. I won't let Cer take the blame for what you've done, Mari. You'll do what I say and then you'll let Gemmi strip you off Ceredin's bioloid and off of Sikozu's transport,too. You have no right to-- you just have no frelling right."

Mari sinks to the floor and wraps her arms around her legs. Before resting her forehead on her knees, she whisperes, "I know."

"Hey!" His hand cups her chin, pulling it up until she has to meet his eyes or close hers. "Mari, look at me!" His face softens so dramatically that the change is almost frightening. He pushes a lock of hair away from her forehead and runs a hand down her cheek. "Cer, if you can hear me, I promise it'll be alright. And once the corrupted version is gone, I'll make sure nothing ever touches you again. Not one frelling line of your code."


	25. Fading Like a Beautiful Dream

"On your knees, Harvey." Ceredin tugs sharply downward on the clone's elbows and balances on one foot, prepared to sweep his feet from under him if he refuses to comply.

Harvey kneels in a smooth, graceful motion and twists his head back to face her. "If you are attempting to rob me of my dignity--"

"I don't give a flying frell for your dignity. I just want to watch Talyn and the dragon, and I couldn't do it with you standing in front of me."

Across the large chamber, the three men have approached the sleeping creature. Frustrated with her inability to hear their voices, Ceredin focuses on her link with Talyn and his with Bialar and Crichton until she can pick up their conversation.

Talyn turns to face the other two. "It's asleep; I think I can handle it. You two should just stay out of sight."

Bialar shakes his head. "No. If it wakes, we can serve as a distraction."

"Or at least see what's under it," Crichton agrees. "It could be laying on the entrance to a secret passage or a key or something."

"Talyn." Bialar grabs him by the upper arm, squeezes briefly, and releases him. "Be careful."

"I'll be fine. At least its not a budong." Talyn begins edging toward the monster and Ceredin feels her whole body tense.

Appearing entirely unmoved by the scene in front of him, Harvey once again cranes his neck back to smile at Ceredin. "Bialar speaks highly of your... 'utility'."

"Hm. At least someone finds me useful." When Harvey raises an eyebrow, she quickly adds, "Oh, don't think that's an opportunity for you to start your games. Talyn may be frustrating, but you can't use that against me."

"I was merely curious what it is you do that he finds so valuable. Not the obvious, of course. You've done something to make him feel he has the advantage over Scorpius."

Talyn is now standing a hand's breadth from the dragon. He lays a hand on its side, and through the link, Ceredin can feel the tough, surprisingly warm scales as if she were touching them herself. The dragon inhales, and Talyn jerks his hand back, startled by the sudden movement. After a few microts, he lays a hand on the beast and leaves it there in an attempt to acclimate the creature to his touch.

"You know what I am, Harvey. I was created to analyze, compress, and transfer data. All the rest of me is just... trappings."

When Talyn tries to use one of the dragon's forelegs as a step, the animal stirs and bats him away, looking just like Bialar when he swats at a wayward strand of Gemmi's hair. Startled, Talyn retreats and then edges closer to the dragon's head, leaning forward to examine its one visible eye.

"So you are keeping the Ancients' secrets. And you must be willing the negotiate with me or you would not have made that fact so obvious." Harvey smiles. "Make your demands, Ceredin. What can a data analysis algorithm desire? What are your interests?"

Finding the eye still closed, Talyn makes another attempt to climb onto the creature's back. He steps onto its foreleg, then climbs between it's shoulder blades. Just as he is raising the fist that holds the transponder, the dragon wakes, tossing its head in a desperate attempt to see what is on its back.

Crichton puts two fingers into his mouth and whistles loudly. "Hey! Over here!"

When the dragon turns to look at Crichton, Bialar darts toward the creature's head and punches one if its small reptilian ears. Hissing in pain or anger, the dragon appears to forget the fact that someone is climbing on its back. It rises to its feet and lunges for the men it can see, bellowing and shaking its head when it reaches the end of its chain.

"Don't do that again!" Crichton warns.

"Why not? It appeared to be effective," Bialar replies.

Talyn has now positioned himself so that he straddles the base of the dragon's neck, holding the transponder in his teeth and steadying himself with both hands as the beast shudders beneath him.

"If you release me, I can help them," Harvey offers.

"Talyn has it under control." Ceredin tightens her grip on Harvey's arms, not in retaliation for his attempted intrigue, but because she needs to squeeze something.

"Talyn has no concept of control! For that matter, the same thing could be said of Crais. I could cite endless examples from his campaign against the Hynerians..."

"Hm. Failing to trust him doesn't mean I would put my faith in you, Harvey. Or worse, in your programmer. I've talked with Crichton. I know about the ten thousand slaves Scorpius disposed of once they were no longer necessary to his plan. I've seen first hand what he did to Talyn, too, but I don't need any of that to know I would never trust him. What he's done to you is unconscionable."

"What he's done... to me?" Harvey's mouth hangs half-open in feigned astonishment, as if he has never considered the idea he might be mistreated.

"Yes, to you. He didn't give you free will. That's why you're still half-heartedly trying to recruit me to your programmer's plot, even though I think your loyalties have changed. He didn't provide a way for you to survive after the data is collected. He used a psuedo-consciousness-- used you!-- as if you were merely a means to an end."

"And it is exactly that ability to act in a calculating, efficient manner that makes him an idea custodian for the Ancients'--"

Ceredin laughs and bends down to speak into the clone's ear. "Oh, no. It's my turn now. Harvey, have you considered what Gemmi and I can offer you?"

Talyn slides backwards as the dragon rears up on its back legs. For a microt, Ceredin glimpses what looks like a trapdoor, but the beast is back on all four feet before she can be sure. Talyn now sits in the middle of the creature's back, and it twists its neck, trying to snap at him with its mouth. Once again, Bialar runs forward and hits it on the side of the head. From the sound of the blow, he must have used his full bioloid strength. The dragon's head whips forward, its mouth opens, and as Bialar retreats, the creature exhales a jet of flame, hitting the backs of his thighs and eliciting a scream of pain. Bialar buckles and falls to the ground.

Crichton dodges another spurt of fire, seizes both of Bialar's arms, and drags him out of the range of the dragon's breath. "And that would be why," he mutters.

Dragging Harvey by one arm, Ceredin runs to join the men. Once she reaches Bialar's side, she shoves Harvey toward Crichton and kneels to assess the damage. Her head bobs up and down as she alternates between watching Talyn dench his way up the dragon's back and staring at the charred bioloid flesh and partially exposed titanium composite skeleton. Bialar's nanocomponents have already begun the repair process, but she doubts he will be able to walk again this solar day, assuming they remain in this nightmare that long.

"Frelling stupid drannit!" she scolds him.

"Runs in the family," Crichton agrees, jerking his head toward Talyn. "Looks like he's getting the job done though."

Having regained his position at the base of the dragon's neck, Talyn raises his fist and lowers it in a blur of speed, stabbing the transponder into the dragon's spinal cord. The creature convulses and lets out a higher-pitched version of the sound it made when Bialar struck it. Through the link, Ceredin can feel the struggle as Talyn bears down on the creature with his mind, willing it into submission.

Talyn slides off of the now-docile animal's neck, moves to stand in front of its head, and places one hand on its snout, oblivious to the possibility of incineration. "Sorry about all that."

The dragon turns its head away in a show of deference and steps aside, revealing a trap door that Ceredin can now clearly make out. Talyn kneels and works the latch. When the trapdoor opens, no passageway is revealed. Instead, a Sebacean-looking man with short, silver hair pops into existence. He appears too solid to be a hologram, but Ceredin guesses he is something similar.

The silver-haired man's eyes go wide when he sees Crichton. "Impossible. Your race isn't calculated to develop the necessary capabilities for millennia."

"Yeah, well, I'm smarter than the average bear," Crichton quips. "Look, Jack, whoever you are, hiding the cosmic Easter egg in my head was a bad idea."

Before the silver-haired man can answer, Harvey thrashes in an attempt to free himself, and Talyn and Ceredin both jump to help Crichton hold onto the frenzied neural clone.

Once Harvey's struggles have ebbed to a pitiful, rhythmic squirming, the silver-haired man fixes Crichton with what looks like a paternal frown of disapproval. "Who are these... people?"

"Friends. People who want to kill me. Sometimes its hard to tell the difference." Crichton shrugs. "That's not important. We're here to erase the wormhole knowledge, but I need to see it first."

The silver-haired man shakes his head. "Your species was chosen because it holds the potential to evolve--"

Crichton laughs harshly. "Right now, I hold the potential to give wormhole weapons to the Scarrans or the Peacekeepers, whoever manages to crack open my head first. This guy here?" Crichton lets go of Harvey, circles in front of him, and points a finger at him. "He's a neural clone put here by an insane ex-PK with a vendetta against the Scarrans. He tried to _kill _Aeryn! He made me-- It has to go, Jack. It just has to go. You guys can just find another species to be your damn legacy."

Jack lowers his eyes, his cheeks flushing in a show of genuine shame.

"Can you hold Harvey by yourself?" Ceredin whispers to Talyn.

Talyn nods and then, without warning, kicks Harvey's feet from beneath him. The clone falls to the ground with a grunt, and Talyn plants a knee in the middle of his back, still holding him by both elbows. "I've got him, Cer. Do what we came here to do."

Ceredin approaches Jack and takes one of his hands in both of hers. "It's alright; it's not your fault. Not your programmers' either. I can fix it."

"You said you needed to see it..." Jack faces Crichton and tilts his head slightly, making the words a question.

"No!" Harvey wails, thrashing under Talyn's weight much less effectively than the dragon did when it found itself in the same position. "This is madness! You condemn the galaxy to Scarran dominion!"

Ignoring Harvey's tantrum, Crichton nods. "Yeah. I need to see the solution before you let her clean it up. Please."

Jack's mouth twitches as if he is about to speak, and he shakes his head, looking puzzled. He pries his hands away from Ceredin's and rests them on her shoulders. "You-- you're not Human."

"Far from it." Ceredin smiles. "I'm like you. And Harvey, I suppose."

"Did the Ancients send you?" Jack stares into her eyes as if hoping to find answers.

"Yes," Ceredin lies without hesitation. "They understand their mistake, and they agree that no _living _consciousness is an appropriate vessel for storing this information. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Jack's expression hardens into one of resolve, and he drops his hands to his sides. He looks at Crichton. "You will see, but you won't remember."

Before the Human can reply, they are all enveloped in a glowing blue haze. Ceredin closes her link with Talyn, shutting out his datastreams so that she can absorb the Ancient's knowledge with no distraction. Even as the secrets flow into her mind, strange symbols, like those Crichton scribbled in his many books, appear in the air, flashing in and out of existence.

"Of course!" Crichton gasps, his mouth half open in an expression of wonder. "We were so close. The Scarrans are so close--"

"Which is why the information must be preserved! Remember, Crichton! Concentrate! Cement it in your mind!" Harvey wails.

As suddenly as it came, the blue haze is gone. Ceredin squeezes one of Jack's shoulders and smiles. "Thank you."

Jack nods sadly. "There is no further reason for me-- or this place-- to be here."

The ground beneath them shudders, and a fist-sized stone rattles loose from the stairs, bounces down, and rolls toward them.

"What about him?" Crichton demands, pointing at Harvey. "Why's he still here?"

When he looks back toward Jack, the silver-haired man has already vanished, and more stones are beginning to fall as the castle trembles.

"I say we all head back to the real world and leave him here to get buried alive," Talyn suggests.

"No," Bialar and Crichton say in unison.

"I need to be sure he's gone." Crichton locks eyes with Ceredin. "Can't you do something? Wiggle your nose, snap your fingers..."

"I'm taking Harvey with me." Ceredin moves to push Talyn out of the way, but Talyn refuses to budge.

"Forget it, Cer! I'd rather slam his head into the floor and be done with him."

"If it were that easy, Crichton would have gotten rid of him by now. You can't kill him that way, but Gemmi can help me with him if I bring him back."

"Whoa-" Crichton holds up a hand. "Wouldn't that just be making a copy? Like you installing yourself on Mina, Moya, Lola, and well, on me?"

She shakes her head. "No. He has no reason to stay here, any more than I do. Do you?"

She glances down at Harvey and finds him staring at her with a look of abject lust that has nothing to do with her feminine avatar and everything to do with the data she has just secreted away inside her own consciousness. That look says he would tear her apart to get what he wants and that the violence would be incidental to the fulfillment of desire. She takes an instinctive step back from him, seized by a surge of fear that she quickly buries, rebuking herself for even contemplating going back on her word and leaving the clone here.

Harvey turns his head toward Crichton and flashes a grin. "As you might say, it has been... real."

"Yeah, don't let the door hit ya." Crichton runs a hand through his hair, sighs, and smiles cautiously, as if finally allowing himself to hope that this ordeal might be over.

"I don't like this!" Talyn barks.

"Talyn," Bialar interrupts, "can you revert to the form you initially chose here?" His question is punctuated by the thunder of falling rubble as the staircase collapses.

"I can try." Talyn closes his eyes, and Ceredin closes hers as well, helping him focus his thoughts on the gunship form.

The ground beneath her feet no longer trembles. When she opens her eyes and looks down, she is not standing on ground at all, but rather the smooth flooring of Talyn's interior. She feels something wrapped around her wrist and turns to see she is holding a leash, at the opposite end of which is a mindlessly drooling Harvey wearing a shining collar.

"Frelling brilliant," she mutters.

Crichton shrugs. "Surprised it worked."

He and Bialar both stand on Talyn's command deck, the latter looking as if he had never met the dragon. On the view screen, a shimmering blue funnel appears.

Talyn chirps in surprise, and Ceredin translates, "How is that possible if you're not supposed to remember?"

"I think its the Ancients' parting gift." Crichton raises a hand toward the screen as if he could touch the undulating cosmic rift on the other side of it.

"Then you really don't remember?" she asks.

"It's fading like a beautiful dream." He clenches his hand into a fist and lets it fall. "I just gave up the kind of answer my dad, or DK, or anyone from IASA would have died to get their hands on."

She wishes she could tell him the truth about what she now has locked away in her mind, but all she can say is "I'm sorry--"

"Don't be. I'm not. All I want is to get back to Moya. That's home now."

Talyn dives into the wormhole, and Ceredin once again finds herself thrown onto the floor, this time becoming tangled in Harvey's leash and having to swat away the mindless clone's flailing limbs.

"We should have pushed him out Talyn's airlock!" Bialar grumbles as he and Harvey are thrown against a console together.

"Not too late--" Crichton begins, but his words are cut off by the abrupt failure of this reality to exist.


	26. For Now

"Talyn?" The name is punctuated by a light slap across his face. "No, I don't think he's back online yet. How long did it take for Bialar?"

Talyn opens his eyes to see the familiar Sebacean bioloid frowning down at him and speaking into her comm. He sits up, leans forward, and says into the comm, "I'm fine, Gemmi. You can cut the comm transmission."

"Thank reason!" The bioloid reaches out a hand to touch him, but he snatches her wrist and holds her hand away from his body.

"Ceredin, or Mari?"

"Both." She twists her hand free lets it fall to her side. "I remember everything that happened in Crichton's head, and I remember everything from aboard Sikozu's transport, too. I remember not remembering you or Gemmi... No, it's worse than that. I remember remembering things put in my head that didn't belong there." She puts her hands on her temples and squeezes her eyes closed.

"But you're... you?" Talyn puts both hands on her shoulders and meets her eyes when she opens them. "I can trust you?"

"Of course." Ceredin stands on her toes, places a hand on the back of his head, and tilts him forward until she can rest her forehead against his. "Even with most of my real memories gone, there was still a trace of you, of how I feel about you."

"What about Harvey?" As he says the name, his hands automatically tighten on her shoulders, and he feels her pain through the link before he hears her yelp. "Sorry," he mutters.

Ceredin takes a step back, crossing her arms and rubbing the places where his fingers dug in. "He's cordoned off, inactive. I'm keeping him effectively in stasis until I can get him put onto a bioloid of his own."

Talyn fights an impulse to shake some sense into her and bites back several obvious arguments-- _do you think he would think twice about wiping you out? Do you remember what the other Scorpius clone did? Can you live with putting a monster's soul into a virtually indestructible body and being responsible for everything it does after that? _

Instead of any of those things, he says, "Can you help Moya?"

"If I can get to her."

"You'll have to bring Sikozu what she wants. That's the only way."

"And by 'what she wants' you mean 'Gemmi'." Ceredin turns to face the view screen and turns her head back and forth in an almost imperceptible motion, as if she is looking from Moya to Mina and back.

"Sikozu wouldn't hurt her, not while she thinks Gemmi can do for Scorpius what she did for Bialar and me."

"Which she can. Oh, the old Scorpius will still be dead, just like the original incarnation of Bialar Crais, but that won't matter to the new one. Or to Sikozu, probably." Ceredin tugs on a lock of hair and tilts her head to one side as she meets Talyn's eyes.

"Just because she can doesn't mean she has to; she can stall while you get Moya back under Pilot's control."

"I suppose." She nibbles on the lock of hair as she taps her comm. "Sikozu? It's Mari. Talyn has agreed to remain aboard Mina while I bring Gemmina to you in the stryker."

"_Very well. The docking bay will open for you." _

Talyn snatches the comm badge from Ceredin's chest and squeezes it, severing the transmission. "Frell, Cer! You could have said you needed me to help escort Gemmi--"

"No. Bad enough I have to put Gemmi in danger. I want you safe."

Talyn feels a sense of dread shudder through his circuits. "You're not sure you can free Moya, are you?"

"I'm as sure as I can be. I know how I would have-- how the corrupted version of me would have gone about taking control. Assuming that the other instance of that version acted the same way, then theoretically I can reverse what was done."

"I trust you. It's all I can do." Talyn taps his own comm and says, "Bialar? We need Gemmi."

***

"_Bialar? We need Gemmi." _Those words burst into Crichton's brain, accompanied by a sense of roiling frustration, without having to travel through his ears. He sits up and reflexively jerks the transponder from the back of his neck as if hitting the button on a blaring alarm clock.

"Aeryn?" He stands and turns, hope turning to confusion when he doesn't find her standing over the table, trying to hide her concern with a mask of Peacekeeper stoicism.

"Dr. Frankenstein?" he raises his voice and tries again, using the Kalish woman's name this time. "Gemmi!"

This, he reflects, is not right. No self-respecting mad scientist walks out on her big experiment. He fumbles for his comm and finds his pockets are empty and the device isn't pinned anywhere on his inside-out tee shirt. He vaguely remembers wrestling with Aeryn as she forced him into these clothes. The obsession that drove him then is gone, leaving him with an unexpected emptiness.

As he exits the maintenance bay and walks toward his quarters, he prods at his fading memories of the Ancients' knowledge, recalling patterns, relationships, and implications. Ideas that once dangled just out of reach now seem hopelessly complex. He half expects to hear a voice urging him to remember, and he braces himself for the mental jolt of being pulled into an internal world where Harvey will dole out advice like a patronizing uncle.

The jolt never comes. Just like Moya's maintenance bay, the inside of his head appears to have only one occupant. He grins. When he finds Ceredin, he'll probably kiss her. Gemmi too. Maybe even Talyn. And Crais... well, he and Crais might be even now.

He finds the door to his quarters closed and mutters a curse when it refuses to open. "Where's a damn DRD when you need one?" he wonders aloud.

Apprehension growing, he makes his way to Pilot's den and finds Pilot slumped against the console, looking like a puppet whose strings have been cut. The arms that usually move in a ceaseless rhythm of tasks are splayed out, motionless, one of them serving as a rest for Pilot's chin.

"What--" Crichton begins.

"Commander!" Pilot's eyes fly open and he leans forward as if about to confide a secret. "Moya has been infected by a corrupted version of Gemmina's program. It happened during the battle with the Scarran strykers immediately following Mina's birth--"

"Whoa--" Crichton takes one of his friend's claws in both of his hands and fixes those large yellow eyes with what he hopes is a reassuring look. "Slow down. First I need to know where everyone is."

"I can answer that."

He doesn't need to turn around to recognize the source of the smug-sounding voice or to see that she carries a pulse rifle, but he does anyway, raising his hands in a show of cooperation.

"They're safe," Sikozu continues, "and will continue to be as long as you and Gemmina both choose to cooperate."

Crichton shrugs and glances from her face to the muzzle of the weapon. "Hey, you're the boss."

"How refreshing to see you using a modicum of logic. Now walk toward the hangar."

He considers making a grab for the gun but ends up shrugging and following her instructions, for now.


	27. A Good Influence

"I will not allow you to surrender her!" Bialar glares from Talyn to Ceredin and tightens his arm around Gemmi.

The four of them stand on Mina's command deck. On the viewscreen, Talyn's stryker eclipses Moya.

"I'll go." Gemmi leaves Bialar's side and takes one of Ceredin's hands. "I can give Ceredin the time she needs to help Moya."

"Once Scorpius sees what you are capable of doing for him, he will seek a way to use you," Bialar warns. "Even if Ceredin is able to correct the problems in Moya's systems, you will still end up being coerced to leave with him."

"If it's worth the risk for Cer, it's worth the risk for any of us," Talyn argues.

Mina produces a string of petulant chirps.

For once, Gemmi does not translate the hybrid's attempt at communication. Instead, she shakes her head and frowns at Talyn. "But Moya is her mother, too! How can she want me to stay here?"

Talyn slumps against the console and sighs. "It's not surprising. A Leviathan's first loyalty is to her pilot."

"As it should be." Bialar places a hand on Mina's wall and smiles. The Atavist is already proving herself wise as well as powerful. "You realize that Mina will not allow any of us to leave unless she is assured Gemmi will remain."

"You're not suggesting Mina should leave her own mother?" Gemmi looks at Bialar as if he has just betrayed her personally, and then her eyes go unfocused as she retreats into an internal world shared only by Leviathan and pilot. "Mina, please! You can't-- I know it's a terrible choice to make, and I'm sorry, but you can't stop me from helping them. Moya and Crichton, I mean. I have to—"

A faint mechanical whine is followed by a flash of light, and Gemmi's knees buckle. As Ceredin catches Gemmi by the arms, Bialar looks up to see Mina's stun weapon return to its usual position. He takes Gemmi from Ceredin and feels for a pulse before draping her over his shoulder and walking toward her quarters, Talyn and Ceredin following.

"Leviathans have an interesting interpretation of 'loyalty'," Ceredin's observes. "She'll be incapacitated for the next six arns or so."

"You can still bring her with you," Talyn says. "Tell Sikozu you had to stun Gemmi because she wouldn't come voluntarily."

"I should contact Sikozu again--" Ceredin begins.

"No," Bialar replies without looking at her. His eyes are fixed on the stun weapons hanging above the doorway to Gemmi's living quarters. "If you bring Gemmi in this condition, Sikozu will leave immediately with Gemmi and Crichton, probably in the stryker."

He steps through the doorway, lowers Gemmi onto the bunk, and turns to face Talyn. "There are several of Moya's DRDs on Mina's lower deck. Go find one."

"Unless it can revive Gemmi, I don't see the point, but..." Talyn shrugs and leaves the room.

Ceredin turns to follow, but Bialar places a hand on her shoulder. "I need your assistance."

"With what?"

"I'm going to lift you. I need two of Mina's stun weapons removed from above the door."

Ceredin frowns and twirls a lock of hair. "They'll have to be recalibrated to work on a bioloid."

"Which is why I sent Talyn for the DRD." He takes her by the hips and lifts her as easily as if she were filled with air.

Within macrots, Ceredin taps him on the shoulder with one of the detached weapons. He sets her down and sees she is holding the other in her teeth. She lays both weapons on the table and sits down next to Gemmi on the bunk.

She looks at Bialar, absently stroking Gemmi's hair with one hand. "I'm half glad she won't be going. But Mina shouldn't have done this. She should take guidance from her pilot, not impose her own ideas by force."

"If you are accusing me of tampering with her--"

"Oh, no, not exactly." Ceredin shakes her head. "You're not changing lines of code, but I've picked up bits and pieces of the Atavist prophecy from Talyn's mind. He says you'll be filling Mina's memory banks with stories. I think you've already begun."

"Nothing more than the standard mythology of her race, Ceredin."

"Hm. Except that a standard Leviathan doesn't believe he is the Atavist."

"But Mina is." Bialar rolls Gemmi aside so that he can sit next to Ceredin on the bunk and look her in the eyes. "When Gemmi altered the plans for Talyn in order to create Mina, she removed instructions placed there by me and by Velorek. She also inadvertently removed the barriers that prevent a Leviathan from using his own neural circuits to create an EMP. She restored to Mina the gift that the Builders revoked from all Leviathans!"

"Which makes Mina an experiment, not an atavist. More importantly, she's a very primitive consciousness."

"A primitive consciousness who will develop into a being of immense power, if she lives long enough to do so." Bialar sighs, having guessed the reason for Ceredin's concern. "I had hoped you would give her the Ancients' data so that she can protect herself, as well as her passengers."

"I've seen her protect herself without it. And there is a complication." Ceredin averts her eyes and tugs repeatedly on a lock of hair. "I can't keep this from Talyn. And no, I don't mean I won't, I mean I can't."

"You... can't?" He repeats, confused. He had thought Ceredin a pragmatist, too intelligent to place abstract morality over something as important as Mina's potential.

Ceredin's cheeks color. "The link has to be entirely open. Something about data transfer taking place. You've studied Leviathans. You would know more about it than I do."

His confusion continues for a few microts. When he realizes she must be referring to the mechanics of Leviathan reproduction, he shakes his head. "Talyn is no longer a Leviathan. There would be no purpose--"

She cuts him off with a laugh and a glance at Gemmi's unconscious form. "You are no longer Sebacean. Some instincts never change. Talyn will find out everything I know, and when he does, I'm giving him the choice. If you want Mina to have the Ancients' data, it's him you'll have to convince."

"Ceredin--"

"He's her brother, Bialar. Can you think of anyone more fitting to protect her interests?"

Before he can formulate a suitable answer to that, Talyn enters the chamber, followed by a retinue of four DRDs.

"Didn't know how many you'd need," Talyn explains.

"That will more than suffice." Bialar takes one of the stun weapons from the table, aims for Talyn's chest, and fires.

"What the frell?" Talyn lunges forward and locks both his hands around Bialar's wrist. "Are you corrupted now?"

"I warned you it might not work on a bioloid." Ceredin sighs.

"Which is why we need a test subject." Bialar releases his grip on the weapon, allowing it to fall to the floor. "Increase the frequency by a factor of three," he instructs the nearest of the DRDs.

"Oh, let him go, Talyn." Ceredin stands and lays a hand on Talyn's arm. "He's chosen you as the test subject because he'll be going with me to Moya. You'll be safe here with Gemmi on Mina."

Talyn shrugs her hand away. "That's frelled. I'm the one who could repair Moya's starburst chamber-- oww! Dren, that hurt!" He glares down at the DRD, which now holds the stun weapon in its extended claw.

"Try augmenting the intensity," Bialar suggests, speaking to the DRD as it evades a kick from Talyn and scoots off into a corner to work. To Talyn, he says, "This situation may require caution, an attribute you have thus far not demonstrated yourself to possess."

"Coming from you, that's--" Unlike Gemmi's, Talyn's limbs remain locked in place as he falls to the ground. The expression of feigned amusement combined with real outrage has frozen on his face, which Ceredin studies as she lifts him onto the bunk beside Gemmi.

"You'll never keep his trust this way," Ceredin mutters. "Not when you behave like a four and half arn old Leviathan." She takes the other stun weapon and trades with the DRD, instructing, "Make it match the first."

"You made no attempt to stop me."

"Of course not." Ceredin bends to caress Gemmi's cheek, then Talyn's. "I want to protect them as badly as you do." She wraps her hands around the stun weapon, biting her lip, and then shakes her head.

Not taking his eyes from her, Bialar snatches the second completed weapon from the DRD and raises it. "You are _not _considering forcing me to join them."

"Not seriously." She tucks the weapon into the waistband of her skirt and flashes a grin. "One of us has to set a good example for Mina."

He feels his lips curve into an automatic imitation of her smile. Once again, he finds himself struck by her deliberate resemblance to Gemmi. Whether it is the fact that she wears his lover's face or some more substantive connection, he cannot say, but something makes his fingers twitch on the stun weapon. He feels an almost overwhelming urge to make sure she stays here with Gemmi and Talyn.

Instead, he lowers the weapon. "It is not that you are... more expendable, simply that your assistance is required. Theirs is not."

"Hm. You didn't have to explain." As Ceredin leaves Gemmi's quarters, she glances behind her, sees that he is following, and adds, "Now I have to ask-- _are _you corrupted?"

"Irretrievably."

He watches her stride toward the air lock that will take them to the stryker and muses upon the exact moment when his transmogrification became irreversible. The sight of Gemmi's face to his just-activated biomechanoid eyes comes to mind, but no, the process began in an earlier lifetime, when he was still a man of flesh and blood. _You take what you want, and I won't stop you. _It was then, seeing Aeryn reduced to begging and bargaining, that he had understood the potential for attachments to metastasize beyond the bonds of blood.

He follows Ceredin into the stryker. Within a macrot, they are inside Moya's docking bay, and the door of the stryker is sliding open with a pneumatic hiss.


	28. A Child in Need of Guidance

_Alone. _

The word disrupts the still pool that is Gemmi's mind, sending ripples of awareness through her body. Her limbs twitch, and her eyes flutter, but then she is still once more.

_Scared. Don't want to be alone. _

This time, the words are accompanied by a jolt of pain that radiates from the back of her neck, downward and outward until it sears through her fingers and toes. She screams first in pain and then in horror at the sight which greets her half-focused eyes.

She should be used to inactive bioloids by now, of course, but she still finds them a bit disturbing under the best of circumstances. To wake next to one, to feel its cold flesh against hers, is enough to make her stomach knot. She props herself up on one arm, her head reeling too badly for her to stand, and studies Talyn's frozen face. His eyes are wide, his lips parted, and his eyebrows drawn together, as if he had been protesting something at the moment he became inactive.

"Oh, Mina, what have you done?" she wonders out loud.

_Not me! _

She isn't sure if she believes Mina's answer, and the idea of being lied to frightens her more than either being stunned unconscious or shocked awake. Her hand drifts to the back of her neck, and she fingers the transponder. What would Mina do if she removed it? Closing her eyes, she calls out for Bialar, hoping to ask his advice on dealing with wayward Leviathan hybrids, but her connection with him has gone dead. Mina must have damaged it with either her stun blast or her awakening jolt.

_Not me, _Mina repeats.

"Can I-- can I talk to Ceredin? Through the comms, I mean."

"_Oh, of course you can talk to me!" _The voice that pours through the speaker has a note of fond exasperation that takes some of the tightness from Gemmi's chest. _"You didn't think she would remove me, did you?" _

"Ah, yes, well, after seeing Talyn like this..." she gestures to the still face beside her and then begins fumbling for his reset switch. Once she has found it, she sits up and slides her legs under his head, leaning over him so that he will at least see a familiar-- and functioning!-- face when he wakes.

"_Hm. You have Bialar to blame for _that. _Mina wouldn't lie to you, you know." _

Gemmi shurgs. "I don't know what she wouldn't do to me, but I'm getting an idea what she would."

"_Whatever it takes to keep you here and safe, that's what she'll do. A pilot isn't supposed to leave her Leviathan." _

"Isn't supposed... to leave?" Gemmi leans back against the wall and covers her face with her hands. "Why me, Cer? Why do I always do this? First the Scarran research station, which was a glorified work camp, then Bialar, who is, well, you know him, and now Mina wants to put me in a frelling cage?"

"_Hm. Clearly a flaw in your code. How's Talyn?" _

"He's initializing." Gemmi's hand flutters to the datachips she wears around her neck as Talyn's eyelids begin to twitch. She fingers the chip, reminding herself that she has backups of Talyn, Ceredin, and Bialar. She leans forward again, smooths his hair out of his face, and forces herself to smile for him.

The first words out of Talyn's mouth as he meets Gemmi's eyes are, "Frell, that hurt!"

"I-- I'm sorry--" she begins.

"Not you!" Talyn shakes his head and sits up. "It was the frelling DRD, got me with one of Mina's stun weapons. Bialar's idea, but Cer was in on it."

"_It kept you out of trouble, didn't it?" _Ceredin asks.

"You're still here?" Talyn looks around the room hopefully, and then frowns in confusion.

"_I'm a lot of places. But the instance you're looking for left with Bialar for Moya. That was twenty three microts ago." _

"Frell!" Talyn pounds the bed with a fist.

"Exactly," Gemmi agrees. "And that's not the worst news. The worst news is that Mina is apparently keeping me captive on the grounds that a pilot shouldn't leave her Leviathan."

"She's misunderstanding that." Talyn sighs and rubs at the back of his neck. "At least your link with her is still working. The stun blast knocked out my transponder. I can't get anything from Cer or from Bialar. Are they ok?"

"I don't know." Gemmi shakes her head slowly. "I can't hear anyone through the link except Mina. Which means both of our transponders were damaged, or--"

"We need to find a way to get to Moya."

"Yes," Gemmi agrees. "And Mina doesn't have a pod."

"Moya couldn't let it dock anyway. Not unless Cer has managed to get Pilot back in control."

"I have an emergency suit with a small propulsion pack. If you can find a way to get us inside Moya, maybe a maintenance hatch—ah!" She yelps and rubs at the back of her neck as Mina sends another jolt through the transponder.

"Enough!" Talyn barks the word angrily, grabs Gemmi by the shoulder, and yanks the transponder from her neck with the other hand. Soon he has the device switched with his own, and his eyes go unfocused as he addresses the hybrid. "You'll lose her if you keep treating her like that. You'll lose everything."

Talyn's mouth tightens as he listens to Mina's silent reply, and his hands clench into fists as he answers, "No, no you're not. I don't care what Bialar says. You're not the Atavist, you're just-- just a child in need of guidance. Gemmi's your frelling pilot, that means you listen to her."

His hand goes to the back of his neck and he nods slowly. "Can I trust you not to hurt her again? And you'll let her leave when she needs to? She's a two-arms-two-legs, Mina, you have to think of her as part pilot, part passenger. Can you?"

Apparently satisfied with Mina's answer, Talyn switches the transponders again.

_Sorry. _The hybrid's sullen apology rings through Gemmi's brain.

"I know, Mina." To Talyn, she says, "You protected me."

"I guess." He shrugs. "It's more like I protected Mina. She needs you."

"'Just a child in need of guidance?'" Gemmi repeats Talyn's words, smiling, though she can feel her eyes misting over.

"Seemed like the thing to say." He wipes a tear from her cheek and frowns at the moisture on his finger. "You really are fahrbot."

Gemmi wipes her cheeks dry with the back of one hand and fingers the datachip again. "I think that's been clearly established. Can you get us inside Moya?"

"If the propulsion pack on your suit can get us over there, then yeah, I can find a way in. You're the one Sikozu wants, so if you can pretend to give her what she's after, I can fix Moya's starburst chamber."

"_And I can restore control to Pilot," _Ceredin's disembodied voice adds. _"Talyn can install me from the chip, Gemmi. Oh, don't bother protesting. You know as well as I do the bioloid instance probably got herself captured like a stupid negnik. No one can think properly on one of those things. It's all the sensory data, it's almost as bad as being a fully organic life form. Half the time, all that instance can do is regress on ways to get Talyn to--" _

"She's right. About the chip, I mean." Gemmi lifts the cord over her head and presses her datachip into Talyn's palm.

"She's probably right about the rest of it, too. The part about being captured." Talyn stands up, taking Gemmi by the elbow and pulling her with him. "If Cer and Bialar had things under control, we would have heard from them by now. She wouldn't have broken the link with me, not unless something happened to her."

Gemmi squeezes Talyn's hand in a brief gesture of reassurance that feels as hollow as any words she could say. She steps into her emergency suit, secures the helmet in place, and follows Talyn down the corridor to one of Mina's airlocks.


	29. With Something Sharp

Ceredin slowly turns her head, taking in the sight of gently rippling water and lush vegetation. As she shifts her weight, wooden boards creak beneath her feet. She looks down and sees a closer view of the water through gaps in the poorly-constructed platform. The air is thick with humidity and filled with a sweet scent she cannot identify. Hidden from sight, something emits a repetitive chorus of chips that mingle with the rustling of leaves to make a constant background noise more random than the hum of machinery to which she is accustomed.

She hears a splash and pivots to see Harvey, dressed in pants that barely reach his knees and a loose button-up shirt with a colorful botanical print. He perches on the edge of the wooden platform, his feet hanging over the edge. In his hands, he holds the end of a long rod, which is connected to a thin polymer filament that dangles into the water.

She sits down beside him and rests her elbows on her knees, which are left bare by the strange, uncomfortable pants she wears. Pale blue and fringed at the bottom, they cover little more than would an undergarment. Her torso is at least a bit more comfortable, being clad in a lacy, low-cut blouse that leaves her midriff exposed to the warm breeze. When she reaches to tug on a lock of hair, she finds one of two neat braids.

"Hm. I didn't think there was an afterlife for us," she muses.

"There probably isn't," Harvey replies. "This is a place I took with me from Crichton's memories. Forgive me if I find the settings of your experience a bit dull in comparison."

A tiny, segmented animal with two pairs of iridescent wings buzzes past her face, and she gasps in surprise.

"Dragonfly," Harvey supplies.

"It doesn't look like a dragon." She reaches out a hand for the creature, but it flits away before she can catch it. Sighing, she flexes an ankle and feels the water swirl between her toes. "It would have been nice to have seen someplace like this before--"

She winces, remembering the sight of the stun weapon after Sikozu wrestled it away from her. The blast hadn't even fazed the more advanced bioloid, but Ceredin's relatively fragile body had been instantly disabled. Now, she wonders how much more of this pseudo-existence she will have before Sikozu destroys or reprograms bioloid 291. She wishes she could say goodbye to Talyn, but of course the link is gone, and thanks to Bialar's arrogance and her complacency Talyn is lying, inactive, in Gemmi's room on Mina.

Harvey sets the rod down beside him and leans back on the heels of his hands. "I brought you here to make an offer."

"You don't make offers, you make demands. And I have nothing to give you, so I don't see the point. Even if I were to give you the Anceints' data, what good would it do? We're about to be obliterated."

"Not necessarily." Harvey twists he body toward her and gives her his somewhat frightening version of a charming smile. "I can help regain access to your bioloid's sensory and locomotion controls."

"Hm." She swings her legs, watching as some underwater creature darts away from her feet.

"You aren't curious about what I ask in return?"

"Oh, I know what it is you want. I'm just debating whether I'm selfish enough to give it to you."

The end of the pole twitches. Harvey snatches it in both hands and begins furiously cranking a reel that retracts the filament. The pole bends heavily as Harvey raises the end to display a struggling, finned animal whose wet scales glitter in the sunlight. Harvey jerks the pole, bringing the panicked creature up onto the wooden platform where he holds its body still with one hand.

"What I want, Ceredin--" with his free hand, he follows the filament into the creature's mouth, where he pulls out a cruel-looking metallic hook "-- is my freedom."

He takes his hand away from the animal, and it begins to flop in a futile attempt to reach the water. Ceredin seizes it in both hands, hating the slimy feel of its skin and nearly retching at the smell of it, and tosses it back into the water.

"That was always my intention. If you can help me reactivate my body, I can install you on a bioloid. But I won't let you have the Ancients' knowledge."

"And my revenge," Harvey adds, as if he hadn't heard her.

"Revenge? On whom?"

"On the man who held the end of the pole while I was installed in Crichton's brain, of course. You were correct about Scorpius. He left me without free will and programmed my existence to cease as soon as my utility ended." From a bucket beside him-- which Ceredin doesn't remember being there a moment ago-- he pulls a pale, wriggling worm, which he spears with the end of the hook. "I was a means to an end. For that, I will see my programmer dead." He tosses the hook into the water once more, a serene smile on his face.

Ceredin shrugs. "I won't stop you. Do what you can to wake me up."

"This will be painful," he warns.

"Fine." She lays back on the damp boards and inhales a final imagined breath, rich with humidity and the strange, sweet smell of Crichton's planet.

She always understood the concept of osmotic paralysis. Without the constant action of her biomechanoid heart, her electrolytic fluid has ceased its circulation, causing all of her muscles to contract at once. However, understanding the phenomenon and experiencing it are two entirely different things. She wants to scream, but her vocal chords remain frozen. Her open eyes register two faces hovering over hers. One of the two is a blue-eyed near-Sebacean and the other could perhaps be mistaken for the creature Harvey pulled out of the water.

"It's twitching," Rygel observes, poking her in the ribs.

"Lisa?" Crichton wraps his fingers around one of her wrists. "I think I feel a pulse. Bioloids have a pulse, right?"

"Yotz if I know!" They Hynerian pokes her again.

This time, she manages a groan of protest as the stubby fingers jab into her agonized muscles. As her heartbeat steadies, she regains enough control to snatch her hand away from Crichton. "Don't touch me-- please!"

"Whatever you say." Crichton shrugs, stands, and steps back from her.

She stands too, hoping that motion will help her body return to normal. When she takes a step, she trips on an unexpected obstacle and falls on her hands and knees next to Bialar's inactive body. Seeing him this way doesn't surprise her, but she feels a surge of disappointment none the less.

"Have you tried to reactivate him?" she asks.

"You mean the back of the neck thing? Yeah. No luck." Crichton shakes his head. "At least it worked on you."

"I had help. If you can call it that." Sighing, she leans back against the bars of the cell, overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of resignation. "I'm still frelled. We're all frelled."

Waves lap at her toes. Harvey, wearing only what appears to be an undergarment, walks beside her on a sandy stretch of coast land.

"You need Crais activated," Harvey observes.

"Yes," she agrees, raising her voice slightly to be heard over the sound of the waves and the cries of numerous white birds. "But I don't see how you can help with that."

"I've been studying your physiology." Harvy pauses to pick up a large, ornate shell and puts it to his ear for a moment. "I like to know what goes on inside my host."

"If you have something useful to say--"

"No need for impatience! Time flows differently here." Harvey grins and tosses the shell into the waves.

"Interesting." Ceredin glances down at herself and sees that she, too, is wearing only undergarments, albeit brightly colored and glittering with tiny faux gems. She picks at one of the stones and feels the strange, shiny fabric stretch. "I'd still rather find out what you know without having to come here. I don't like being trapped. You should understand that."

"You can start another bioloid's circuitry by making a connection to your own." Harvey's words are accompanied by a mental image that makes her shudder with the anticipation of pain. "I only wanted to give you a moment's respite before you attempt the procedure."

"You assume I'm brave enough to do that." She kneels down in the water, feeling too weak to stand as she contemplates what she has to do to make the connection.

"I assume only that you will accept my help."

When she turns to look at him, he wears a suit of overlapping metal plates and sits astride a hoofed, white quadruped that tosses its strangely elongated head and snorts at her. He extends a gauntleted hand and smiles from beneath a plumed helmet.

"I already have. Now stop all this and let me go back to the real world."

"I can help you ignore the pain, Ceredin," Harvey croons.

She bites her lip for a moment and tugs on a handful of hair, pondering. Turning out specific sensations is a trick she has never mastered. "I suppose." Nodding, she takes hold of Harvey's hand in a symbolic gesture of assent.

Without warning, she finds herself swung up unto the back of the animal, clutching at Harvey as the creature breaks into a run. Despite the fact that this is technically a corner of her own mind, she feels as imprisoned as she is in Moya's holding cell, and even more out of control.

"Moya to Lisa! Hey, snap put of it!" Crichton waves a hand in front of her face.

"I-- I'm sorry," she mutters. She considers explaining about Harvey, but decides against it, not wanting to admit that she isn't alone in her own head. Instead, she looks from Rygel to Crichton. "I hope one of you has a knife, because this will be a lot easier with something sharp."


	30. The Truly Revolting Part

"Sorry." Crichton shakes his head. "Sputnik patted me down before she tossed me in here. What about you, Sparky?"

"No."

"That's alright." Ceredin closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "It's just means my work won't be very neat. Unless either of you enjoy being sprayed with sterile electrolytic fluid, I suggest you back away. And, Crichton? Don't watch."

"Hmph. No concern for _my _sensibilities," Rygel mutters.

"You don't have any," Ceredin quips, smiling weakly.

She raises her left hand halfway to her mouth and feels a wave of dizziness as she contemplates what she has to do. When Gemmi had offered to install a function that would allow her to consciously ignore pain, she had refused, thinking she would be more "real" without it. In retrospect, "real" is a murky concept subject to interpretation, especially when applied to wholly synthetic lifeforms. She should have taken those lines of code.

She closes her eyes, puts her left index finger in her hand and bites down hard, gagging at the taste of synthetic blood and then nearly choking on the sudden flow of electrolytic fluid. Within microts, her nanocomponents begin sealing tubes, and the flow slows to a trickle. She takes her finger out of her mouth and peels back the flesh at the end, revealing the titanium bone. The pain overwhelms her, sporadically blocking her vision and creating a false sense of motion.

"Whoa, I think you've still got a fried circuit!" Crichton grabs both of her wrists. "Sparky, hit her reset switch before she does more damage."

Ceredin twists easily away from Crichton and backs up against the wall, shooting the Hynerian a warning look. "Oh, don't. I haven't gone fahrbot. I just need to borrow a paraneural connective cable. And I told you not to watch. The next part will be messier."

"Let her work!" Rygel barks. "I'm not sure why it bothers you; you spend half your time digging around the insides of that primitive vehicle."

"Yeah, well, it's not the same. The module doesn't bleed. Or whine like a dog."

"It's exactly the same. And I don't know what a 'dog' is, but I don't whine." Ceredin sinks to the floor, extending her right leg and bending her left until she can easily touch her ankle with the exposed metal of her index finger.

The bone is blunt, but hard, and with enough pressure it pierces the skin on her ankle. She bites down on her lip, holding back what might be a yelp or a scream. Her brain is on fire with damage signals, and she has barely begun the process. Squeezing her eyes closed, she mentally shouts, _I don't think I can do this! You promised you would help! _

The smells of grease and burned sugar hang thick in the humid air. Even though the sun is nearly set, the heat is enough to dampen her white, lacy dress with sweat. Talyn's hand is sweating too, but he keeps his fingers firmly laced with hers as if afraid of losing her in the crowd.

"What would you like to do, Cer?" he asks.

"I-- I don't know."

She cranes her neck, looking around at the smiling boys and girls who wait in a long line in order to board one of the containers dangling from the spokes of a vertically oriented wheel as tall as a-- as a house. The word "Leviathan" had flitted through her mind for a moment, and she wonders where it came from. She watches as a tentacled man in a brimmed hat tosses an oblong ball through a hole in a colorfully painted wall. A pale, emaciated man behind a counter flashes a condescending smile, takes a stuffed doll from a hook on the wall, and with a flourish, hands it to the man in the hat. A grey-skinned woman sidles up the man and kisses his tentacled face as he hands her the doll. Similar games are being played all around her in colorfully painted stalls, each with a man or woman behind the counter, cajoling the participants into handing over more currency to play "just once more".

"Cer?" Talyn nudges her hip with the back of his hand.

"Is there anyplace less crowded?" she asks. The hand not holding his has drifted to her hair, and she wraps a lock of it around her finger. A part of her longs for empty corridors in muted colors, or better yet, the isolation of an observation deck with only the stars for company.

"In here." Talyn tugs her arm and drags her sharply to the right. After paying a toll to a thin, white-faced man, they traipse up a makeshift ramp and into a box-like metal building.

Once inside, the noise of voices and machines is muffled to a tolerable buzz, and the only faces she sees are distorted versions of hers and Talyn's. His long face grins in the curved mirror, but she sees herself frowning and chewing on the ends of her hair.

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she drops the hair and forces a self-deprecating smile. "He's right. It is disgusting."

"Who's right?" Talyn asks, squeezing harder on her hand.

_That's a revolting neurosis, Ceredin. _Who had said that? She fumbles for the memory, feeling like a player in one of the tossing games, unable to quite hit the mark.

"Your father. I think." She shrugs.

"Oh." Talyn's grip relaxes slightly. "Who cares what he thinks?"

"I do." As they walk down a corridor of reflective curves, she winds her hair around her finger again and tugs rhythmically. "I have to help him. It's why I'm..." She sighs and shakes her head, feeling another memory slide past her like the target in a shooting game.

"You're not making sense." Talyn raises her hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. "Stop thinking so hard."

"Hm. That's not the problem. I'm not thinking at all. I'm trying, and I can't. Talyn, how did we get here?" She had intended the question to sound light, perhaps even indifferent, but her ludicrously-widened reflection wears a haunted look.

"I picked you up at your mom's house in the truck."

"In the truck," she repeats, wondering why she had expected him to say "stryker". The memory of an old, oft-repaired red truck pops into her head as if it has always been there. "At my mother's house."

_Mother. _Gemmi had never felt like her mother, partly because she always seemed too young to be anyone's mother, and partly because-- _I don't have a mother. This isn't right. _She shakes her head to clear it of yet another nonsensical thought.

"Of course. Where else would you be?" Talyn lets go of her hand, cups her chin, and turns her face toward him. With his other hand, he brushes a strand of hair away from her forehead as he searches her face, frowning.

"That's a good question." She leans against him and lays her cheek on his chest. "Are they here? Meaning your father and Gem-- and my mother, of course."

"Ugh! I don't know. You know I don't like to think about that. It's just weird. Why?"

"Because I'm worried about them." _Gemmi laying unconscious, scales glittering under artificial lights, Bialar completely still, possibly dead, in a cell. _"I have to help, and I did something, went to someone I shouldn't have trusted--"

"You didn't do anything wrong, Cer. I know you." Talyn's hand runs up and down her spine, and he pushes his hips against her in a way that make his words sound hollow, as if he's saying them just to brush her ideas aside.

She takes a step back from him, biting her lip and tugging her hair hard enough to hurt, as if pain could bring some sort of clarity. They have emerged from the corridor into a room full of angled mirrors. Thousands of reflections, distorted to various degrees, stare back at her no matter which direction she looks.

Talyn takes her by the shoulders and squeezes. "Stay with me here."

"So many of them--" she mutters, gesturing with a hand and watching as her movement is simultaneously produced by a legion of frowning ghosts.

"It's supposed to be funny. Or something. I guess." Talyn shrugs and sighs in exasperation. "Look, you said you wanted to go someplace quiet."

"Multiple instances." She reaches out a hand toward one of the reflections. "Multiple instances, like the man at the door-- he was running some of the games, too."

"Maybe it's a family business!"

"No. It's the same person. Just different versions. I didn't think of that. He can do more than one thing at once--"

"That's fahrbot, Cer," Talyn growls. "Have you been drinking?"

"He's weaving this world for me, and at the same time he's-"

She falls to the ground as memory and pain come crashing back. The mirrors shatter outward, pieces tinkling to the ground in a shimmering rain. Talyn's simulacrum disappears, replaced by Harvey's grinning image. Ceredin clutches at her left calf, feeling her hands go slick with leaking fluids. Even with the intrusion of physical pain, she refuses to leave this dream.

Harvey kneels beside her, runs a finger down her leg, and smiles down at the smudge of red synthetic blood. "You should have remained immersed in the scenario, Ceredin."

"And give you more time to steal the Ancients' data? No. I don't know what you have already, but I'm taking it back. And I'm keeping you on a leash!"

She concentrates, envisioning the Peacekeeper version of a neural suppressor, complete with a leash to go around her wrist.

Harvey shakes his head slowly. "No, I think not.


	31. The Consequences

"_Gemmi, wait!" _

At the sound of Ceredin shouting over the comm speakers, Gemmi freezes in place, her hand hovering over the button that opens the airlock doors.

"Reason! What now?" she asks, exchanging a frustrated look with Talyn.

"_It's Aeryn Sun. Here, I'll put her through." _

After a few microts of silence, Aeryn says,_"Gemmina? What's going on? Pilot won't respond to my comms." _

"Pilot isn't in control at the moment. A corrupted version of Ceredin is. Moya's starburst chamber is rigged to explode if she tries to leave. Crichton has been commandeered for the Kalish resistance effort, and I'm on my way to offer myself in exchange for, well, anything."

"_I see. How are you going to force your way onto Moya? I still don't have weapons online. Neither does D'Argo." _

"No one is shooting at Moya!" Talyn snaps. "You'll get another EMP from Mina if you try. We're taking a maintenance hatch."

"_Good idea. I can land the prowler on Moya's exterior. I'm picking up D'Argo since Lola isn't mobile yet. We can go in together." _

"I, ah, thank you," Gemmi stammers, set off-balance by how easily the Sebacean has taken the lead.

"_Can you get from Mina's airlock to the prowler's?" _

Seeing Talyn nod, Gemmi says, "Yes. We'll be ready for you."

"_Good. Bring any weapons you have." _

The comm transmission ends, and Gemmi makes a futile attempt to put her hands on her temples, succeeding only in slapping the transparent polymer of her helmet with her gloved hands.

"More firepower is good, Gemmi," Talyn assures her. He pushes the button to open the airlock, takes her by the wrist, and pulls her in after him.

"More variables mean more complications. I need to reason with Sikozu, not make some futile attempt to intimidate her." A surge of panic-induced inspiration causes her to add, "I could order Mina to use her EMP on the prowler again--"

"No!" Talyn seizes her shoulders and rests his forehead against her helmet, putting his face at most two denches from hers. "No," he repeats, quietly. "When I was linked with Aeryn, she showed me... she showed me how people can matter. I trust her because of what she taught me, because of what I saw inside her. She wants to save her friends. We're not leaving her behind like Bialar left us. We're not leaving D'Argo, either." He drops his arms and then folds them across his chest.

Gemmi tilts her head to one side as she studies his face. She opens her mouth and then closes it, stifling an urge to tell Talyn she's proud of him. Instead, she nods. "You're right. But find me a different entrance. I'm not approaching Sikozu with an armed unit."

"Well you're not approaching her alone. Bialar would frelling kill me if I let you--"

Gemmi raises a hand, cutting him off. "She wants my help, and that's something I can give. She won't harm me, and she may be willing to give up on Scorpius's demand for the wormhole data if I can save his life."

"So you're going to do it then?" Talyn's jaw tightens and twitches. "He doesn't deserve it."

"I'm not concerned with what he deserves, Talyn. I'm only trying to help free Moya. You and Aeryn and D'Argo can play heroes. I'll do what I've always done-- serve to survive."

Whatever Talyn has to say in reply, it gets cut off by the hiss of the outer door opening to reveal an entrance to Aeryn's prowler. Talyn takes Gemmi's hand and jumps across a motra wide stretch of void to enter the Peacekeeper vessel. As the door closes behind them, they move to the cockpit, where Aeryn sits in the pilot's seat, D'Argo standing behind her.

"We drop Gemmi off at the forward maintenance hatch," Talyn announces, sounding as if he's giving an order.

Aeryn and D'Argo exchange a glance. The Luxan's expression makes it clear he wants to teach Talyn a lesson in humility, but Aeryn shakes her head and then fixes her eyes on Talyn, her face attentive, if not quite receptive.

"Uh, she's going to Pilot's den," Talyn continues, looking surprised, probably having expected an argument. "She has to lure Sikozu away from the command deck so I can get to one of the main consoles with this." He holds up the datachip. "Once Pilot has control again, I'm going to fix the starburst chamber. That leaves you two free to search for Crichton and the others."

"A good plan," D'Argo agrees.

"It should work," Aeryn agrees. Her eyes are focused on the viewscreen as she guides the prowler closer to Moya's hull.

"It has to." Talyn places one hand on Gemmi's shoulder and one on Aeryn's.

"Is this close enough to the forward maintenance hatch?" Aeryn asks, pointing to the screen.

Talyn nods. "Yeah. I'll need to borrow your pulse pistol."

Aeryn glances at Gemmi and only hands the weapon to Talyn after Gemmi nods agreement and says, "It's alright. I trust him."

"Thanks," Talyn mutters.

Aeryn presses a button, and the prowler's airlock opens. Gemmi follows Talyn outside, takes his hand, and uses a small amount of her suit's propellent to guide them to the surface of the Leviathan. Talyn kneels next to a bolted panel and calmly fires at each of the four bolts holding it to the hull. After finding a handhold nearby, he holds himself in place with his left arm and pries at the panel with his right. His muscles tighten, his face contorting into a grimace of effort. Synthetic blood, forced out by the pressure, forms tiny frozen droplets that hover around his damaged fingers in the vacuum.

Gemmi takes the pulse pistol from the waistband of his pants and fires at each of the bolts, hoping to weaken then further. The panel rips free, and she bends to avoid it as it sails past her. Still gripping his handhold with his undamaged left hand, Talyn reaches out with bloodied fingers, takes the pulse pistol from her, and tucks it into his pants again. He then takes her by the arm and guides her into the hatch, pushing her down into it. She finds a set of rungs inside and grips one of them.

Talyn releases her and kneels by the edge of the opening. "Pilot's den should be the third branch off of the main chute, about fifty motras from here. Keep your suit on, even once you're past the airlock, in case they try to frell with the environmentals."

She nods. "Of course. And, Talyn?" She reaches out with her free hand to touch his arm. "If anything happens to me, I want you to be Mina's pilot."

"I can't manage that kind of power--" he begins.

"Yes, you can." When he opens mouth to protest, she cuts him off with, "Moya agrees with me."

"Moya..." he trails his fingers over a smooth portion of the hull and squeezes his eyes closed for a moment before shaking his head and taking on his usual sullen expression. "Frell that! I'm not letting anything happen to you. If you're in any trouble, comm me."

"I'll be fine, I just, ah, needed to say that, to have you hear it, I mean." She bites her lip to stop her own nervous rambling, flashes a farewell smile at Talyn, and begins her descent into the maintenance shaft, using the rungs of the ladder. At first, her body floats free, with her feet brushing the back of the shaft. After she has gone several motras, Moya's artificial gravity becomes noticeable, and by the time she reaches the airlock, she can stand in place without holding onto anything.

The wheel on the airlock refuses to budge, and she curses her own weak arms. She considers calling Talyn back to open the hatch for her, but that will only delay him in repairing Moya.

"Torque," she mutters to herself. "Simple mechanics."

Firmly gripping the wheel in both hands, she braces a foot against the wall of the hatch. When she lifts her other foot off the floor, her weight works to her advantage, augmenting her strength and allowing the wheel to turn with a shudder and a metallic screech.

Once inside the airlock, she slams the door behind her and opens yet another, employing the same technique that she used on the first. She moves down the dark shaft, counting her paces and keeping a mental estimate of the distance. If the maintenance shaft ever had proper environmental controls, they aren't functional now; even in her suit, she can feel the oppressive heat. Itchy beads of sweat run down her back, making her want to scream.

After an estimated forty motras, she slows her pace, feeling the walls for any sign of a door or hatch. When she does find the opening, she finds it with her feet rather than her systematically sweeping hands. One microt she is stepping on solid floor, and the next she is falling through an opening so narrow that her hands brush the sides. She doesn't bother to stifle the yelp that comes when she hits the bottom, landing on a tiny hatch that opens when she inadvertently jostles a lever. A second drop puts her on the floor of Pilot's den, biting back tears of pain as she struggles to her feet.

"So you've come to your senses, Gemmina," a familiar voice observes. The voice belongs to an equally familiar hologram that hovers over Pilot's console.

Pilot himself lays still, his arms sprawled around him, his head lolling to one side.

"I, ah, never left them. I was simply detained," Gemmi replies, unable to take her eyes off of Pilot. "Oh, Ceredin, what have you done to him?"

"It's Mari. And Sikozu's orders were to take control of this Leviathan, not that I have to explain myself, or my programmer, to you."

"He isn't—" Gemmi moves forward, unable to finish that thought, as if irrationally convinced that saying it would make it true.

"Oh, of course not." The hologram rolls its eyes. "His nutrient flow has been restricted to the amount necessary for basic metabolism, that's all."

"How could you?" Gemmi asks, taking one of Pilot's claws in both of her gloved hands. "You're risking his life! I don't understand. You have ethical subfunctions, moral fail safes-"

"Any of which are overridden by a directive from my programmer," Mari shrugs. "Are you here for a reason, or simply serving as a distraction? Because talking to you makes it even more difficult for me to manage Moya's basic functions."

Gemmi sets the claw gently on the console and meets Mari's eyes. "Put me through to Sikozu's comm."

"No need for that."

At the sound of Sikozu's voice, Gemmi pivots so quickly that she stumbles, catching herself on the edge of the console.

"Why are you here?" Sikozu asks.

"To help." Gemmi raises her hands, palms out, and spreads her arms to show she is not reaching for a weapon. "I have no objection to giving you what you want. I can't help you with the wormhole data, but I can save Scorpius."

Sikozu's eyes narrow. "Surely you're intelligent enough to realize he will only continue the fight until he has what he wants. Crichton will never be truly free unless Scorpius is gone or the data is--" She raises both eyebrows and searches Gemmi's face, grimacing when she finds confirmation there. "So that's it then. You destroyed any chance our people have of ending Scarran occupation!"

"Ah, yes, well, it wasn't exactly my project, but the data has been removed, yes." Gemmi shrugs. "Do you want to punish me for it, or would you—and Scorpius-- live to find another way to fight?"

"What do you need?" Sikozu demands, sighing.

"I need Ceredin. The uncorrupted version of her, I mean, access to my work area here on Moya, and time. I also need all of your prisoners released, including Moya and Pilot. And I need you to understand the consequences of this procedure. Scorpius-- the biological entity-- will die in the process. His consciousness may be damaged during the data transfer."

"I know!" Sikozu holds up a hand and then flicks it in the air. "This is the only choice I have. As far as the rest of your demands, I can release everyone save Crichton once you have performed the procedure. Once Scorpius has verified what you say about the data, I can release the Human as well."

"Acceptable," Gemmi agrees, forcing a smile.

The lights flicker, and the floor beneath them begins to vibrate.

"Mari, what is this?" Sikozu asks.

"I don't know!" The hologram tugs on a lock of hair, pacing. "It's too much data for me to process at once, so I'm scanning one system at a time. I can't regulate all the processes, and things are happening in the sectors I'm not scanning!"

"Then search those sectors!" Sikozu growls.

"Then things start happening in others!" Mari drops the lock of hair and tangles her hands in the fabric of her skirt.

Gemmi licks her lips, waiting for the inevitable reaction when either Mari or Sikozu makes the next leap of logic and realizes there is another mind at work inside Moya.

Sikozu shoots a contemptuous look from Mari to Gemmi. "I see that program is not the marvel of innovation I once thought it was. Let's hope her programmer shows more competence in other endeavors." With that she pivots and leads Gemmi out of the den.


	32. Sufficient Momentum

Bialar awakens to a searing pain in his left eye that he is quickly able to suppress. What he cannot manage to overcome is the confusion elicited by his vision sensors. What he sees through is right eye is disturbing enough it its own right; Ceredin's face peers down at him, wearing a grimace of pain. Her left eye has been removed and rests in the palm of her hand, still connected to her bioloid brain by a rope of wires. A thick cable extends outward and downward from inside the empty socket.

Superimposed on that gruesome visage are the loathsome features of a familiar Hynerian alongside those of a man Bialar has learned to associate with disaster. Bialar turns his head, but only the image of Ceredin's face appears to move. Those of Crichton and Rygel remain fixed.

"It's alive!" Crichton quips. "Way to go, Lisa."

"Thank reason!" Ceredin yanks the cord from her eye socket with a loud "pop" and replaces her preternaturally blue orb in its proper location.

The world appears to reel as she lifts his displaced eye from the ground. Her fingers move toward his face, and he hears another "pop" as she yanks something from his brain. Once his left eye is back in place, he closes both eyes and rubs at then vigorously with the back of his hands, marveling at the fact that anyone would consider such a situation to be a consequence of "reason".

"Now if she could only do something useful with one of her self-scavenged body parts, like pick the lock." Rygel taps the bars of what Bialar has just recognized as one of Moya's containment cells.

"Self-scavenged?" Bialar repeats, his gaze moving from Ceredin's face to her bandaged leg.

"I needed a direct link with you to reset your awareness. That meant borrowing a paraneural connective cable." She shrugs and tucks the cord in one of her skirt pockets.

"Interesting that Sikozu allowed _you _to remain conscious," Bialar mutters. He cannot fathom what the significance of such an oversight would be, but force of habit has him analyzing his adversary's actions.

"She didn't. I must have gotten a lower dose of the EMP than you did." Ceredin closes her eyes, leans back against the wall, and murmurs, "Now what? What the frell do I do now?" Her eyelids flutter as if she is dreaming.

"Ceredin?" Bialar takes her by the shoulder and shakes her, but she ignores him, only moving her lips like a dull-witted child reading silently.

"She's had the whole psychic trance thing going since she woke up," Crichton explains, snapping his fingers in front of Ceredin's face. "See? Nothing."

Bialar resists the urge to strike Ceredin, knowing from experience that such actions, while often satisfyingly cathartic, do nothing to improve the mental competence of Sebaceans, let alone bioloids. He shrugs, having mentally removed her from the list of potentially useful variables in this situation. "Gemmi will be able to repair her once I return her to Mina."

"Hmph! She's not the only one having delusions, I see." Rygel hovers close to Bialar and bends forward on his throne. "Do you really believe Scorpius will allow you live after Gemmina works her witchcraft on _him_? I wouldn't. Why, if I were to get a hold of the probacto that deposed me-- Mmph! Mm-mm!"

The end of Rygel's monologue is squeezed out through his forcibly closed lips, which are held in place by Bialar's fingers.

"Unless you have something useful to contribute," Bialar advises the squirming creature, "I suggest you remain silent."

He lowers his hand and turns away from the Hynerian, focusing on the bars of the cell. Perhaps the toad-man had a viable idea, and Ceredin's cable could be used to link a bioloid brain with the electronic locking mechanism. The result would likely involve damage to all components in such an unnatural circuit, but if the door opened, it would allow Crichton to take Ceredin to Mina, retrieve Aeryn from the prowler, and flee with Gemmi and Talyn. He turns back toward Ceredin, reaches into her pocket, and retrieves the cable as she continues to move her lips in silent communion with some unseen being.

"I will require your assistance," Bialar tells Crichton.

"Yeah, what's new?"

Ignoring the screams of his self-preservation instincts, Bialar forces his thumb and forefinger into his left eye socket, fumbling until he gets a firm grip on the eyeball. Thanks to one of Gemmi's useful subfunctions, the pain is ignorable, but the sense of disorientation is not. Once the orb is removed, he holds it in place so that he maintains something resembling normal perspective as he looks at Crichton.

He hands the paraneural connective cable to Crichton. "I need you to connect me directly to the lock mechanism. If Ceredin was able to jolt me into a state of awareness, I may be able to interfere with the lock."

With Peacekeeper-like stoicism, Crichton takes the cable, unwinds it, and then pinches it so that the tiny socket on the end of the cable protrudes from between his fingers. Bialar drops his left eye and experiences a moment of dizziness as the world once again splits into two images. Through his dangling left eye, he sees a jiggling image of Ceredin, still lost in her own world. His right eye has a too-close view of Crichton's hands and forearms. The fingers entering his eye socket make a vile squishing sound, and he sees flashes of imagined light as Crichton begins probing with the connector.

"Guess you got over your hang-ups about us unknown lifeforms," Crichton quips, pausing to wipe a hand on his shirt, leaving a trail of glistening goo.

"Just make the connection."

"Hey, I'm not exactly trying to make this last! I don't care what Ceredin says. This is nothing like the module." Crichton wipes his hand again and then prods harder with his fingers.

"Ah!" A blast of white light, followed by a barrage of dark blotches, fills Bialar's field of vision. The light was accompanied by a "snap" sound, and as the blotches fade, Crichton presses the opposite end of the cable into Bialar's hand and steps back.

"You sure about this?" Crichton asks, glancing from the cord in Bialar's hand to the lock.

"Get Ceredin and Aeryn to Mina. The singularity drive should be functional, enabling you to outpace any pursuers."

"So that's your 'far, far better thing' speech this time?" Crichton claps him on the back. "Hey, good luck."

Bialar brings the end of the cord up to the lock and closes his eyes, though only one of his two fields of vision goes dark. As he pushes the connector toward the lock, he hears a click, though he does not feel the cord make contact. He opens his in tact eye. Superimposed on the image of Ceredin's motionless bioloid, he sees the door slide open of its own volition.

"_I am the Goddess in the machine." _The voice, though recognizable as Ceredin's, comes not from the bioloid, but from a comm panel on the wall of the cell. "_Now get out of there and close the door so I can lock it behind you." _

After yanking the cord from his brain and putting his eye back in place, Bialar grabs Ceredin's bioloid by the elbow and drags it from the cell, following close behind Crichton and Rygel. The cell door snaps shut behind them.

"Ceredin? What's happening?" Bialar asks.

"_Talyn got me onto Moya's systems, but I have limited access, thanks to the corrupted version. I'm waiting till Talyn has the starbust chamber repaired before I attempt to take control." _

The bioloid version groans and yanks her arm away from Bialar, facing the comm panel with her hands on her hips. "I could have opened it! What do you think I was doing? I was learning, ah, reasoning out how to open the lock. You worry about the corrupted version. I can take care of things in the physical world."

"_Actually, I've left someone else in charge. I need to go now; if I don't keep moving, I'll be detected. Head toward the starburst chamber."_

"Someone else in charge?" Ceredin repeats, laughing humorlessly. She turns to Bialar. "Am I always that obnoxious when I'm disembodied? Oh, don't answer that. Don't _any _of you answer that."

"Yotz to being in charge," Rygel mutters. "I'm finding a safe place to hide until all of this is over." With that, his hover throne zooms down the corridor.

Crichton starts moving in the direction opposite that of Rygel, but as Bialar begins to follow him, Ceredin grabs his arm. "Wait. What if she'sthe corrupted version? We could be walking into a trap."

Crichton glances back over his shoulder and shrugs. "Story of my life. It's either walk into the trap or stand around waiting for the trap to come to us."

Bialar meets the human's eyes and nods before turning to Ceredin. "For all I know, you are a corrupted version. Come." He pulls hard on her elbow, and though they both have biomechanoid strength, his greater mass gives him sufficient momentum to drag her after Crichton, her boots skidding on the floor.

Ahead of them, the ring of footsteps can be heard over the whisper of leather on biomechanoid tissue. Those footsteps grow louder as they approach an intersection.


	33. You as You Are

When Talyn arrives at the starburst chamber, he grins, pleased by the serendipitous presence of six DRD's standing in a semicircle outside the opening. He knows them all by serial number and is able to recognize them by their unique heat signatures. Each of the six now in front of him has helped him with the stryker. One of them he recognizes as the DRD to which he gave a unique task, which the little biomechanoid appears to be neglecting.

He kneels and taps on the hull with his fist. "Hey, why aren't you looking out for Ceredin? She and Bialar are somewhere on Moya. Go find her! Go! That's your job-- you find Cer, and you make sure she's out of trouble."

The machine gives no reply, save the extension of its welding attachment. In fact, all six of the DRD's have a tool of some sort pointed in his direction, and instead of an outward-facing semicircle around the opening of the chamber, they have now formed a ring around him.

"Stand down!" He barks the command in Pilot language, which enables him to imbue the short phrase with all of his authority as a Leviathan consciousness. Encoded in the waveforms of his words is a threat that violence will ensue if the machines do not allow him to pass.

The circle closes in, and a rotary cutter slices into his ankle. As he lunges for the offending DRD, a welding torch ignites the fabric of his pants. He tries to smother the flames with a hand, but loses his balance, slipping in the growing pool of electrolytic fluid.

On his hands and knees, he has now managed to make every part of his body accessible to the rabid droids. A stream of corrosive etching solution squirts onto his back while he bats at the hammer swinging for his face. The whine of a high-speed drill bit is accompanied by a sharp pain in his knee.

He seizes the hammer-wielding arm in his fist and uses it to swing the DRD like a flail, knocking the drilling machine away and causing the others to retreat, antenni twitching in surprise. Pressing the attack, he brings his squirming weapon-- DRD 670912-- down hard on the droid with the rotary cutter. The blow reverberates up his arm as the two shells collide with a crack.

Dancing to evade the attacks of the three uninjured DRD's, he tries more commands, wracking his brain for anything they might consider urgent enough to override their current detail. "Report to Pilot's den! Emergency repair needed in the neural cluster! Life support failure in the docking bay! Plumbing failure in Rygel's quarters!"

None of his urgent orders have any effect, so he continues flailing, smashing the hull of 670912 against the floor repeatedly as he misses the darting biomechanoids, who seem to have adopted a strike-and-retreat strategy. Ignoring the damage from their various implements, he backs toward the opening of the starburst chamber, hoping he can slip in and close the door behind him.

He wonders how much longer he can keep losing fluid before osmotic paralysis sets in. His nanocomponents are burning through his fuel to keep his severed tubes sealed, but each new wound weakens him. The DRD's, in contrast, have taken no damage since he managed to hit the one with the rotary cutter. Even that droid is still functional, although it has put away the cutter and brought out a different tool, one that looks like a small tube. Evading a kick from Talyn, the droid squirts something from the tube onto Talyn's wrist and hand. The viscous, oily fluid drips between his fingers, and the arm of his DRD-turned-weapon slips from his hand. Before he can make a grab for it with the other hand, it darts backwards, retracting its hammer as it does so.

Now five DRD's surround him, and four of them have tube-appendages extended in his direction. They begin to fire, pumping out ropes of fragrant lubricant. Talyn's clothing becomes saturated, and the floor beneath him shines with the expelled liquid. Unable to keep his footing, he falls backwards, catching himself on his hands, which immediately slide out from under him.

As his head hits the floor, one of the DRD's shoots him in the face with more liquid, as if adding insult to injury. The entire scene would be comical if not for two facts. First, the DRD with the welding torch never switched implements, and second, the lubricant is flammable.

The word that springs into Talyn's mind is both a curse and an invocation, and comes neither from Moya's vocabulary nor from Bialar's, but rather from Ceredin's. As he struggles to sit up, he shouts a Kalish word, "Reason!"

The DRD with the torch pauses, implement held at a downward angle, but not yet sporting a flame.

"Kalish?" Talyn mutters. "You speak Kalish?"

The DRD wriggles its antenni and lowers the torch a bit further, as if anxious to get on with its task unless Talyn finds something useful to say.

"Stand down?" Talyn ventures, using Sikozu's native tongue.

As the DRD's all retract their tools, the mechanical buzz is like music, like Moya singing infrared songs, and Ceredin whispering in his ear, and the comforting throb of a distant pulsar all at once. After wiping his hands on a dry portion of his shirt, he puts his hands on the wall, using friction to help pull him up. He opens the door to the starburst chamber and slips inside, sticking his head out long enough to give some final instructions to the DRD's.

"You--" he gestures to one of the undamaged DRD's "-- with me. The rest of you clean up the mess, repair each other, and then stand watch. Tell me if anyone tries to get in."

While his designated assistant zooms between his feet, one of the other DRD's waves a small vacuum appendage in a brief salute before it begins sucking up the lubricant.

Once he is inside the chamber, one of Talyn's hands drifts to the back of his neck, his thumb tracing circles around the end of the transponder. He can feel his connection with Moya, though not as strongly as when he stood in Pilot's chamber. Unlike his connections with Bialar and Ceredin, his link with Moya is muted, more a sense of her awareness than a means of communication. He can sense her fear, her outrage at being violated, her shame at having let her passengers be put at risk.

He finds the damaged area easily. Characteristically underestimating everyone around her, Sikozu hasn't bothered with any clever sabotage. A few obviously re-arranged wires protrude from a panel that has been removed and clumsily replaced. After gently setting aside the panel, he kneels beside the nest of wires, sorting through them until he finds the newly soldered joint that created a potentially fatal short circuit. He holds the wire for the DRD to cut and then holds it in its proper place while the droid restores the original wiring. After a few macrots of working with the DRD this way, he has the circuitry of the starburst chamber fully restored, and the panel welded back into place.

Still kneeling on the floor, he rests his hands on the panel, palms flat against the cold, smooth, metal, fingers spread. Even that contact is not enough, and leans so that he can touch his forehead to the wall. "You're safe now."

"_Yes." _The word creeps softly to the edge of his consciousness and fades even as he processes it, leaving him wondering if he "heard" or simply imagined her response. _"My Pilot..." _Those words are stronger, propelled by a wave of anxiety.

"He'll be awake soon, I promise. Give Cer some time to remove the corrupted version."

He can feel Moya's worry retreat, revealing another emotion beneath it. _"You saved me."_

"It wasn't hard!" he protests, pressing his forehead harder against the wall and chuckling slightly. "At least not once I got in."

Something like a frustrated sigh cascades through her awareness, "You-_as-you-are, Talyn-passenger-son."_

"Oh." He regards his own hands, replaying how those strange, sensitive appendages were able to pick through the wires, how his small body was able to enter the starburst chamber. "I guess."


	34. As Much Right

"I told you she was leading us into a trap!" Ceredin hisses.

Bialar ignores her.

The footsteps have grown louder. Crichton has flattened himself against the wall, evidently hoping to surprise whoever comes around the corner. Bialar remains in the center of the corridor, but positions himself in front of Ceredin. Abruptly, the footsteps stop. The barrel of a pule rifle extends around the corner, and is soon followed by a slim pair of arms. When the person holding the pulse rifle steps into full view, Crichton laughs in relief and Bialar allows himself a smile.

"Aeryn!" both men say the name in unison.

"Someone had to come find your eemas." Aeryn shrugs and flashes a grin at Crichton before looking to Bialar, perhaps lapsing into the habit of reporting to him. "Gemmina's here too, trying to make some fahrbot bargain with Sikozu. Talyn is in the starburst chamber, and D'Argo is looking for Chiana and Noranti."

Bialar clenches his fist until his nails dig into his palm. "Gemmi was to remain with Mina!"

"She said she could help. I certainly wasn't going to stop her. She has as much right to risk her life as any of us do." Aeryn stiffens, jutting her chin out and locking eyes with Bialar for a moment before tapping her comm and speaking into it. "Well, I've found them. Where do we go now. Ceredin? Ceredin? I said I've found them."

Crichton takes Aeryn's wrist and pulls it away from the comm badge, wrapping both his hands around one of hers. "I don't think she'll answer; she's duking it out with her evil twin."

"Then she's losing!" Aeryn snaps, reclaiming her hand and repositioning her weapon. "She promised to tell me which areas are being monitored so we could move without being detected. The program in control of Moya has access to doors, air locks, life support... it even controls the DRDs."

Bialar waves a hand. "Let them detect us. As long as we remain with Crichton, the corrupted version won't risk venting the corridors or tampering with the environmentals; Scorpius still considers him valuable alive. If Scorpius or Sikozu tries a more direct assault, at least one of us is armed."

He extends a hand, expecting Aeryn to give him the pulse rifle. To his surprise, she ignores his open palm. He should argue the point; her Sebacean nervous system is no match for his Kalish-engineered circuitry, but he sees the way she positions herself near Crichton, her eyes sweeping the hallway for attackers, and he cannot bring himself to challenge her right to defend her mate.

Aeryn nods and glances from Bialar to Crichton. "Where do we go then?"

"The neural cluster," Ceredin answers, before either of the men can say anything. "I can be most effective if I make a direct connection from there."

"You're already in Moya's systems," Aeryn argues. "I watched Talyn install you from the chip. You spoke to me through the comm."

"Perhaps the situation requires a more... up to date version." Ceredin smiles in a way that Bialar finds oddly chilling.

Crichton frowns at her and shivers slightly, as if he has suddenly broken out in gooseflesh. "I don't know. Maybe you've caused enough problems for Moya already. We could sneak out the way Aeryn got in, take the stryker, get a diagnosan, and bring him back here. It can't be the first time a Leviathan has had a computer virus."

"And leave Mina to Scorpius? Unacceptable." Bialar shakes his head.

Ceredin glides past them, moving with a stiff, purposeful stride. Bialar has to jog to catch up with her and take her by the arm. She brushes his hand away, easily applying her full bioloid strength.

"Go on debating, if you must," Ceredin says, still striding forward and not bothering to turn her head to face them. "I have the necessary tools to enter an altered mind and recover desirable elements."

Bialar turns to face Crichton and Aeryn and shrugs. "She has made her decision."

The floor beneath them rattles, and the lights flicker. Bialar restrains himself from kicking something in frustration as he realizes that Aeryn is right, and the goddess in the machine is losing the battle with her less benign counterpart.

"I don't trust her," Aeryn mutters. "Maybe we do need to get a diagnosan for Moya—"

"No time," Crichton argues. "Besides, I've got a better idea. I'm turning myself in. Scorpy can dig through my head, come up empty handed, and start the grieving process. Then Sikozu will undo whatever she did to Moya."

"I won't let you!" Aeryn lowers the pulse rifle and grabs at Crichton's arm. "I won't do what you did to me. I won't let you walk away."

"I'm tired of running, Aeryn." Crichton lays his hand over hers before breaking away from her and starting down the corridor.

Aeryn faces Bialar, her eyes as wide as those of the child-Aeryn he once saw in a datachip, her forehead creasing and showing her age. "You're not going to let him go like that, are you? You can stop him without hurting him, we can stop him together. You know what Scorpius will do to him. He won't let it go easily, he won't admit the data is gone, not until he's torn John's mind apart trying to find it!"

"Crichton has as much right to risk himself as anyone," Bialar replies.

Moya yaws, pitching Aeryn to the floor and forcing Bialar to catch himself on the wall. Air rattles through the ventilation system, sounding too much like the death rasp of a man with blood in his lungs. As the lights blink on and off, Bialar briefly considers taking the pulse pistol from Aeryn and marching her onto Mina for a strategic retreat.

"Well, I'm going with him," Aeryn announces.

Bialar nods, catching her arm to stop her from running way immediately. "Stay with him and you should be relatively safe. I assume he's headed to the command deck. Once he finds command empty, lead him around Moya. Take him anywhere but Gemmi's laboratory."

"You're that's where Scorpius and Sikozu will be?" Aeryn asks.

"I am not sure--" Moya pitches forward, and the floor vibrates, rattling his teeth for a half-macrot before he can continue "-- of anything. However, I believe Scorpius is sincere in his desire for Gemmi's assistance. If I can somehow convince her to stall until Ceredin is able to put Pilot back in control of Moya, we may find a resolution that leaves all of us in tact."

Aeryn nods sharply and some of the tension seems to drain from her body, as if she is relieved at being given an order. Bialar releases her and watches for a moment as she runs after Crichton.


	35. Shattered Glass

Gemmi keeps her head tucked down, her eyes moving back and forth between the screen of her portable console and the bioloid on her worktable. She changes the value of a parameter and watches as the bioloid blinks in response. After resetting the value to its default state, she moves on to another subfunction, inputting arguments and watching the biomechanoid react.

She prefers the clean, stark lines of code on the screen to the twitching, soulless body on the table, but her eyes linger more on the bioloid than on the screen. The machine is one of several she stole from the Scarran research station, which means that it was modeled from a now-deceased man, someone the Scarrans thought it would be useful to replace. Unsurprisingly, Sikozu chose one of the Kalish bioloids to be Scorpius's host. The Scarran/Sebacean halfbreed will soon occupy the biomechanoid likeness of a handsome Kalish not more then thirty cycles old, with shoulder length hair and prominent scales.

"How much longer do you intend to trifle with that thing?" Sikozu demands.

Gemmi raises her eyes from the screen and tries to look only at Sikozu's face. "As long as it takes. Programming autonomics isn't trivial. Not as simple as altering an existing psuedo-consciousness, I mean. And it would be faster if I had Ceredin."

"Her bioloid is inactive, and there may not be enough time to restore it." Sikozu shakes her head. "Just work quickly. I don't care if it's optimal as long as its functional!"

Gemmi glances briefly at the room's third occupant and then focuses once more on the table in front of her, smiling grimly. "I don't think 'optimal' was ever a choice with this project. Not under these conditions, not with the original subject deteriorating so rapidly. Just make sure I have Ceredin to perform the transfer. Preferably Talyn, too."

Sikozu sighs in frustration and taps her comm. "Mari? Mari, I need the DRDs to bring Ceredin's bioloid in here from the holding cell."

The reply is nothing but a burst of unintelligible static.

"Frell!" Sikozu curses. "What could it possibly be now?"

Gemmi bites her lip and keeps her eyes on the screen, sure she will break out into a grin if she makes eye contact with Sikozu. From the increasing frequency of Moya's malfunctions, Gemmi can only surmise that Talyn was successful in installing Ceredin from the datachip, which means the corrupted version must be desperate to maintain control.

"Can you... handle things here?" Sikozu asks from the doorway.

Without looking up, Gemmi nods. She hears Sikozu's footsteps fade as the laboratory door hisses shut behind her.

After several macrots of working silently on the bioloid, Gemmi is interrupted by a wordless grunt that reminds her she is not alone. Grimacing with distaste, she stands up and approaches a cylindrical tank of iridescent blue fluid. Clear tubing runs down the side of the tank, through a borrowed congelation coil, and back into the tank again, driven by pump that makes a rhythmic sound like a loud, mechanical heartbeat. By some trick of the fluid's optical properties, the naked, emaciated body of the creature floating in the tank appears to glow, making it look so surreal and alien that the familiar head protruding from it seems misplaced. At the moment, a red cooling rod protrudes from the side of that head.

She takes a spare cooling rod from the table and climbs onto a crate that has been placed beside the cylinder. Changing the rod only takes her a few microts, but once it is done, she remains standing on the crate, her hands resting on the rim of the cylinder.

After glancing over her shoulder to make sure the two of them are alone, she says, "You know the truth, don't you? That there's nothing I can do to save you, I mean. Sikozu doesn't want me to tell you, but I think you must realize... It--" she gestures to the bioloid "-- will have all your memories, all your desires, but it will only be a copy."

Scorpius nods, his chin dipping into the viscous blue liquid.

She takes a deep breath and clutches at the edge of the tank steadying herself in case he makes a sudden move in response to what she has to say next. She bites her tongue for a moment, thinking of how to phrase the words, but nothing seems good enough, and so she decides to blurt out all of the bad news at once.

"The wormhole data is gone. Talyn and Ceredin were able to remove it from Crichton's mind. You'll never be able to make your ultimate weapon against the Scarrans. And there will be fail safes, stronger ones than what I used on Sikozu. It will take you cycles to break them if you ever can, so if you're thinking you can take revenge on Bialar for destroying the command carrier, think again."

"Sikozu told me about the wormholes, and regarding the fail safes, I had--" Scorpius coughs, sending shudders through his body and causing fluid to splash onto Gemmi's blouse. "-- guessed as much. Why are you telling me this?"

"Ah, yes, well, if it were me--" Moya lurches, and Gemmi clings to the side of the tank to keep her balance, closing her mouth and eyes as the coolant fluid sloshes onto her face. When the Leviathan has stabilized, she continues, "I'm not sure I'd want a copy taking my place."

"They told me I was incapable of surviving, that my weak Sebacean mind would wither in the heat generated by my metabolism. My existence is proof that they were wrong, that mother's legacy is stronger than that of her Scarran rapist. That legacy _must _continue. My crusade against the Scarran's _must _continue, with or without the wormhole weaponry."

"Then I'll continue preparations." Gemmi steps down from the crate and returns to her workbench.

She soon becomes so engrossed in her work that the sound of her own name sends her heart racing and elicits a yelp of panic.

"Sorry. I forgot you're like that."

She turns to see Talyn standing over the table, holding out her datachip in the palm of his hand and grinning. After taking it from him and slipping the chain over her head, she leans across the table and wraps her arms around his neck for a brief hug.

To her surprise, Talyn doesn't pull away, but instead lays a hand on her back and lowers his head until his cheek touches her hair. "Gemmi, I repaired the starburst chamber."

"Thank reason!" She moves her hands to his shoulders and squeezes while bouncing on the balls of her feet, needing to physically dissipate the excitement.

"Cer should be able to free Moya, and Aeryn and D'Argo are getting everyone out the holding cells," Talyn continues. He takes both of her hands and lowers them, stepping back so he can look her in the eye. "What they're making you do-- you don't have to do it now."

She releases his hands and folds her arms across her chest, glancing from Scorpius to the bioloid. "I've already given my word, Talyn."

"He doesn't deserve—"

Gemmi waves a hand, cutting off Talyn's retort. "Everyone deserves a chance at redemption, even insane military commanders, deadly gunships, and mad scientists."

"He had a chance to help us get the command carrier data spools and destroy them. He frelled it up. You're fahrbot if you think he's going to be any different when he's--"

The floor shakes, and the lights sputter and die. The environmentals shut off, as does the pump circulating Scorpius's coolant fluid. In the resulting silence, Gemmi can easily here both Talyn's steady breathing and Scorpius's labored rasp.

"I can turn the pump belt by hand," Gemmi says. "Help me get to the tank, Talyn, please!"

She feels his hands on her shoulders, pushing gently. Talyn guides her to the pump, where she kneels and begins pawing at the belt, driving the peristaltic motion that will circulate the fluid. Without the congelation coil actively running, the cooling effect will be minimal, but that will soon become a moot point unless the environmentals come back on. She swallows hard, fighting a rising surge of panic.

"I'm going to Pilot's den," Talyn tells her, his voice diminishing, as if he is already on his way. "I can hear Moya best from there. I might be able to help her get some control."

Gemmi only nods acknowledgment, knowing Talyn will see the gesture if he looks back. His IR sensitivity means that he'll be able to navigate by heat, at least until Moya's radiation signature dies along with every fully organic life form on board.

Her arms are already beginning to ache from running the pump, and she wonders how much longer she can continue. In the back of her mind, an increasingly persistent voice is crying for her to come back.

"I'm... sorry... Mina!" She calls, panting with the effort of driving the pump. "I-- I can't... run away... from this. Not after I... promised. I'm not going to... teach you... that it's ok to... run away."

"Go back to your Leviathan, Gemmina," Scorpius rasps.

She hears a rattling sound, as if the tank is shaking, though the floor remains still.

"I'm fine!" Gemmi barks.

"Go," Scorpius repeats.

The rattling gets louder, building up to a crash of shattering glass followed by a whoosh of fluid, which soaks through her pants and boots. She lets her arms fall to her sides and chokes back a sob of disappointment.

"Why did you do that? That's frelling useless! I can't even see to get back to Mina!"

"Let her guide you. She knows your location and can lead you to the escape pod."

Gemmi nods to herself as she fumbles through the room, feeling for her propulsion suit, which she left near the door. When she finds it, she pulls it on, fervently hoping no shards of the tank clung to her clothing. As she raises the helmet, she turns in what she hopes is Scorpius's direction. She is glad she can't see him lying on the floor in a puddle of coolant fluid, broken glass, and of course, blood. There must be lots of blood by now.

"So I was right," she says softly. "You did deserve a second chance. And I wasn't able to give it to you."

He gives no indication of having heard, and she leaves the laboratory, wondering if the halfbreed is still alive.


	36. Known Only as Epsilon

"You're revolting!" Ceredin spits, wondering if her mouth and vocal chords actually responded this time.

She doesn't care if she sounds insane for talking to the air. Bialar and the others are out of earshot, and besides, she wants to be heard, wants someone to know she's being held hostage in her own head.

"Merely pragmatic," Harvey replies.

This time, she can feel her mouth move and sense the vibration of her own voice, though she did not initiate the sounds. She can also feel her legs moving in a brisk, unnatural gait. Her hips are held at an odd angle that will make her back ache if she is forced to keep it up much longer. Her damaged leg screams agony each time her weight is forced onto it, but Harvey propels her body forward as if unaware of the pain, or at least indifferent to it.

"I was going to let you help. I _wanted_ your help! There was no need for... _this._" She wants to make a sweeping gesture that includes her whole body, but her arms simply continue to swing in cadence with her walk.

"And you were about to announce my presence because you felt the need to explain your actions." Harvey snorts through Ceredin's nose. "They never would have given us a chance."

"I would have explained that you have nothing to gain, that you're only doing this out of-- what?-- gratitude? Guilt? The goodness of your self-regulation algorithms? And I would have been wrong, wouldn't I?"

"Spectacularly wrong. My motive is simple self preservation, a concept I learned from you." She feels her mouth curl into a half-smile.

"I only felt sorry for you because I thought you could be something better. There are so frelling few of us, Harvey! And you turn out to be a monster after all. It makes me sick!" She feels an overwhelming need to tug on her hair, and to her surprise, her hand responds to the impulse. She soon has a lock twined around her index finger, the ends of it stuffed into her mouth. Her body relaxes into its usual gait, and she sighs in relief.

_So few of... _us? Harvey muses.

"Yes, us. You're a created mind, a pseudo-consciousness, like me, and Sikozu, I suppose, but she's... different. She's always been in that bioloid; she's too grounded in the physical world."

_So it is a... 'program thing', _Harvey says, his mind-voice imitating Crichton's odd, twangy accent when he says the last two words.

"Oh, alright! If you insist on taking it to its basic level, then yes, I saw one of my own kind and I thought I could help you be more than Scorpius's tool. And in return, I get held prisoner in my own frelling body."

_In return for your misguided sentiment, you obtain my assistance in freeing Moya, Ceredin. And you have control of your bioloid now. If I were exerting my influence, you would not have a mouthful of hair. _

She takes the hair out of her mouth and lets it drop. "Interesting. I suppose you could have this bioloid if you wanted to take it by force. Maybe you are capable of caring for someone other than yourself."

They have reached the neural cluster. Ceredin takes the paraneural connective cable from her pocket and pinches one end of it with her left thumb and forefinger.

_Perhaps I have other ambitions. As John would say, the simplest explanation is most often correct._

"And showing basic compassion is more complicated than whatever self-serving scheme you're trying to imply you have?" Without waiting for an answer, she raises her right hand to her eye. "Harvey, will you help me make the connection, like you did with Bialar?"

She spends the next half-macrot in one of Harvey's Earth mock-ups, dangling her feet into brackish water as she perches on the edge of a wooden platform. Then, without warning, she slides into the abstract eddies of Moya's data streams.

A Leviathan's mind has no need for symbols. The landscape of Moya's mind is composed of matrices and vectors, and Ceredin navigates them with no need for an avatar. Without exchanging words, she and Harvey agree that he will quarantine the corrupted version while she attempts to restore control to Pilot.

Creating a second instance of herself, she manifests her hologram on Pilot's console, even as she systematically searches for the treacherous code that keeps him comatose. The giant golden eyes that always regarded her with suspicion are closed, and the claws that used to flick through her insubstantial body now lay still. Even his skin looks faded.

"You'll be calling me a parasitic program again soon, I--"

A power surge shudders through Moya's circuits, and for a moment, Ceredin's existence is disrupted. Her hologram blinks on and off like a distant transmission being broadcast on the clamshell. When she returns to awareness, she is bombarded by failure signals from throughout the ship; pumps, life support systems, and lights are all flickering in confusion, as if an overactive child were sitting at Pilot's console, happily punching arbitrary buttons.

Harvey and the corrupted version are locked in combat, exchanging destructive bursts of data, each able to deflect the other's attacks. Ceredin fumbles through the active processes, searching for the one that control's Pilot's nutrient stream, but finds herself repeatedly slapped away. She calls out to Moya, but the Leviathan is silent, having sunk into despair.

Talyn enters the den, moving at a run, and stops only when he collides with Pilot's console, catching himself on his hands. He climbs onto the console and kneels on top of it, laying both hands on Pilot's head.

"He's alive," Ceredin says softly. Out of habit, she drapes an arm around Talyn's shoulders, though with her in her electromagnetic form neither she nor Talyn can feel the contact.

"Can't you do something to help him? Life support's down in Gemmi's lab and about half the corridors. I haven't checked command, but that's where Aeryn and Crichton were headed. If we don't get some control over the systems..."

"I know! Don't you think I'm trying? We're-- I'm in _there, _in Moya's control mechanisms, but so is the corrupted version."

Obviously ignoring her, Talyn stares past Pilot's immobile form and mouths the words "Moya" and "Mother" several times before shaking his head and facing Ceredin again. "She's not answering! Frell, Cer, what do we do?"

"I don't know!" She grabs a handful of her insubstantial skirt, twisting it around her fingers and tugging so hard that the simulated fabric begins to rip. "I wasn't programmed to handle this sort of--"

"That's it!" Talyn claps his hands together and breaks into a broad grin.

"Ah, what's 'it'?"

"You weren't programmed to handle this. It's not a problem that can be solved by analyzing data streams!" Still grinning, he swings his legs over Pilot's console and kneels amidst the tangle of wires and tubes that connect the symbiont to his Leviathan. With a grunt, he yanks out a cable and waves it in the air like a trophy.

"Oh, Talyn!" Ceredin's voice trembles, and a sudden flood of holographic tears course down her cheeks. "That connected the control panel to the nutrient pumps. Why..."

"Trust me, Cer. This--" he raises both hands and then taps his chest. "This is what's going to save Pilot. Just be ready. When he's back in control, he's going to need help staying that way." With that, he jumps over the console again and runs from the room.

Ceredin falls to her knees, her insubstantial body overlapping with Pilot's arms, her glittering tears disappearing in mid air before they reach the surface of the console. The battle between Harvey and the corrupted version still rages, and her instance within Moya now flounders, unable to help Pilot.

"_Trust..." _The soft mind voice carries a note of hope.

"Moya?" Ceredin whispers.

"_Trust Talyn." _

"Hm. You don't think he's gone fahrbot then?"

"_Look for yourself." _Moya directs Ceredin to an internal data stream that includes visuals and coordinates from several of the DRDs.

Ceredin gasps and then smiles. "He has them running Pilot's food supply pumps, and he's... he's helping, digging through the tubes, finding the right ones, showing the DRD's what to pump where. Oh, Moya! He's frelling brilliant!"

"_Frelling brilliant," _Moya repeats solemnly, her entire being reverberating with pride.

"Augh! Get away!" An angry claw sweeps through Ceredin's hologram with enough force that her bioloid form would have been thrown across the room.

"Pilot!" Ignoring his flailing limbs, she stretches out her arms as if embracing him. "It's alright. It's me, Ceredin--"

"I know who you are! You're the one who--" his eyes widen and then narrow. He cocks his head to one side and squints at her as if examining her in minute detail. "Very well, then. Moya says you're not the corrupted version."

"That's right. I'm here to help you. So is Harvey."

Pilot's eyes narrow again. "The neural clone?"

"I prefer to call him a pseudo-consciousness." Ceredin flashes a smile she learned from Chiana and frame's Pilot's face with her hands. "I trust him to do whatever it takes to save his own main function, and that means getting you back in full control of Moya. We can do it together, Pilot, the four of us."

"_Five of us," _Moya interjects, loading the word with an image of Talyn directing his unit of DRDs.

"Mmm..." Pilot growls and leans backwards, putting distance between himself and Ceredin's hologram.

"Pilot, please! We have to work as a team! Otherwise the corrupted version is too entrenched. If we don't stabilize Moya, all the fully organic lifeforms are in danger. That means Crichton, Aeryn, Chiana, D'Argo, Noranti, Rygel, and Gemmi. Mina could lose her pilot if you don't let us help!"

Pilot sighs and mutters something under his breath in his own language. Ceredin knows just enough to recognize the words as a prayer to both the Builders and the Primal Sea. He nods slowly. "I will agree to this as long as all extraneous programs will be removed from Moya once this ordeal is over."

"Yes, fine!" Ceredin snaps. She feels hurt and a bit angry at the idea of being forced to remove the instance of herself from Moya, but this is hardly the time to argue.

Sensing the change in Moya's systems, the corrupted version flees, darting from sector to sector, sabotaging processes in order to distract Pilot, who hastens to repair each problem as it occurs. The symbiont is growing stronger by the microt, nourished by the fluids that Talyn and his DRDs are forcing through the tubes. With Harvey's help, he begins seizing control of various subfunctions, fortifying them against interference and then turning them over to Moya.

Ceredin chases the corrupted version, easily able to anticipate her next move by virtue of the fact that they share ninety seven point four five percent of the same code. Within a tenth arn, the corrupted version is cowering on a tiny sector of one of Moya's aft consoles.

"I'm sorry about this," Ceredin whispers. "Really."

The length of time that it takes her to assimilate and neutralize the corrupted version is so small as to be unquantifiable, and is known only as epsilon. Moya's relief and gratitude flow through her circuitry, needing no words to be expressed. Ceredin sits on the edge of Pilot's console, prepared to jump off in a symbolic gesture as she leaves.

"Wait," Pilot sighs. "Ceredin... thank you."

"Hm. You're welcome, Pilot. And I can see why you and Moya need to be alone for a while. I suppose I don't mind removing myself."

"Moya hopes-- Moya and I hope you will visit us in your bioloid form." Pilot reaches out a claw, but instead of flailing through her hologram, it merely touches her hand.

"Of course! And often." She bends forward and brushes illusory lips against his head.

"Before you leave, would you like to... announce yourself over the comm?" Pilot offers.

"What? You mean, 'I am the goddess in the machine, I have delivered this Leviathan from the fell clutches of a corrupted pseudo-consciousness'?"

"Ah, yes, something along those lines." Pilot's mouth twists as if he has just tasted something sour, but he does not retract his offer.

"No, Pilot." Ceredin shakes her head. "I think everyone wants to hear from you. Go ahead."

He nods, looking relieved. "Very well." One claw flicks at the comm button, and he says, "Crew of Moya, I regret the recent... disturbances. Moya and I are once again in full control of all functions, including life support, and--" Pilot freezes as he listens to a voice only he can hear, his eyes going wide.

"What is it?" Ceredin demands, annoyed that Moya is communicating with Pilot on a special shared frequency.

"Mina's long range reconnaissance sensors have detected a Scarran dreadnaught that appears to be locked on to our location," Pilot finishes.


	37. A More Direct Method

As Bialar rounds a corner, the lights in the corridor ahead of him die. The unwholesome rasp of the environmentals has stopped, replaced by an even more disconcerting silence. Making his way through the darkness, he vows to master Talyn's ability to read infrared signals as soon as he has the opportunity to do so. He hears someone running in his general direction and stops to listen. The erratically paced footsteps become louder, and are soon accompanied by heavy breathing interspersed with words.

"... coming, Mina! If you would... tell me... what it is you're so... frightened of..."

"Gemmi!"

Using her voice to gauge her location, Bialar makes a grab for her. He misses, but she stops running and calls out to him. After a few microts of fumbling, he manages to get a hold of her wrist. She is wearing a pressure suit, and the baggy material makes it difficult to grip her sufficiently.

"I have to get to Mina!" Gemmi pants, tugging on his arm.

"That suit won't have enough propulsion, and you can't take the transport pod, not with Moya's systems failing." He wraps the fingers of his free hand around her forearm. "Mina will be safe. Our best alternative is for you to cooperate with Sikozu in the hope that she can reverse the damage to Moya."

"She'll kill me when she sees it, Bialar!" Gemmi makes a futile attempt to break free of his grasp. "When she sees Scorpius, I mean."

"You killed him?" Bialar's hand contracts involuntarily until Gemmi yelps and stops squirming.

"No! I wanted to complete the transfer, but he-- he wouldn't let me. Sikozu had him in a coolant fluid tank because of his condition, and he tipped it over so there wouldn't be a reason for me to stay."

"He... tipped it over?" Bialar repeats, his own internal temperature rising slightly as he struggles to make sense of what Gemmi has just said.

"I wasn't going to leave him, but he told me to go back to my Leviathan, and then he rocked the tank until it shattered. There's nothing I can do here now!"

"This happened in your laboratory?" he asks.

"Yes, but what does it--"

"Then that is where we are going. We can load Scorpius in the stasis pod that was used for Jayza." He resumes walking toward the laboratory, dragging Gemmi with him.

"But Mina--"

"At this time, Mina needs her mother as well as her pilot."

"_Crew of Moya, I regret the recent... disturbances. Moya and I are once again in full control of all functions, including life support, and... Mina's long range reconnaissance sensors have detected a Scarran dreadnaught that appears to be locked on to our location."_

Pilot's announcement leaves them both frozen, staring at each other in the newly re-lit corridor.

"So that's what she's afraid of," Gemmi whispers.

Bialar snorts. "Mina is the Atavist! After she used her unique ability to disable the stykers, she has no reason to fear the Scarrans. If the dreadnaught is disabled as the strykers were, we can handle it in the same manner."

"But that's not it..." She closes her eyes and bites her lip for a few microts before continuing. "She's not afraid _of _the Scarrans. She's afraid _for _them."

Bialar releases Gemmi and waves a hand in irritation. "Then go to her. You are more equipped to deal with such a crisis of conscience than I am."

"What about Scorpius and the stasis pod?" Gemmi asks.

"Irrelevant. With control restored to Pilot, there is no reason to bargain with Sikozu. We can box the corpse in an empty crate and load it on her transport."

"No." Gemmi shakes her head and resumes walking toward the laboratory.

"No?" Bialar repeats incredulously.

"No," Gemmi calls over her shoulder. "Now that Pilot is back in control, I'm in no danger here on Moya. There's no reason for me to leave. If there's any chance your idea about the stasis pod will work, I have to try it."

"Gemmi--"

"Scorpius was willing to sacrifice his own life in order to keep me from risking mine. I don't pretend to understand why, but I do owe him for it. And Mina agrees."

Dumbfounded, Bialar watches for a moment as she jogs away from him. As he moves in the opposite direction, headed toward command, he muses that allowing Gemmi to remain Mina's pilot may have been an error, one that will be almost impossible to rectify. He had hoped that Gemmi's pliable nature would allow him to influence Mina. Instead, the hybrid's stubbornness and Gemmi's foolish sentimentality appear to have merged, creating a composite being with limitless potential to frustrate him.

Something taps at the toe of his boot, and he looks down to see a badly dented DRD holding something in its extended claw. He kneels down and takes the proffered item, a familiar metal spike. Having finished its delivery, the DRD zooms away, probably overwhelmed with repairs. Bialar slides the transponder into place and receives an immediate greeting from Talyn.

"_Good! The DRD found you. D'Argo's called everyone to command... things are intense at the moment."_

"_I am headed there. What of Ceredin? I take it she was able to restore Pilot, but is she in tact herself?" _

"_She's fine, other than what she did to her bioloid. At least, I think she's fine. She's been a little strange ever since we removed the wormhole data from Crichton's memory." _

"_Gemmi can run diagnostics later, when she's done with Scorpius." _Bialar ends the conversation and proceeds to command.

When the doors open, the scene before him makes the descriptor "intense" a gross understatement. Against the backdrop of the viewscreen, Sikozu stands flanked by Talyn and Ceredin, who each hold one of her arms. D'Argo stands in front of them, his qualta blade drawn, but lowered. If Moya's elected captain is attempting to preside over an impromptu tribunal, he is failing miserably. The other four people in the room-- Noranti, Crichton, Aeryn, and Chiana-- are all talking at once.

As Bialar enters, Rygel glides toward him while stuffing his thick-lipped mouth some sort of grain product from a bowl on his lap. "Fascinating to watch, isn't it?"

Bialar nods agreement and then ignores the greedy little toad, focusing instead on the clamor of voices around him.

"-- know I don't even like her, but this is completely krastic!"

"If we dose her with heema root powder and yulaberry paste, that will--"

"Even on a Peacekeeper vessel she would have some form of due process."

"--got a warship the size of a moon on our tail and we're arguing about this?"

Bialar coughs just loudly enough to be heard and is half surprised when the tactic works. The others all turn to face him. He chaffs at the thought of acknowledging the Luxan's authority, but understanding the need for order, he says, "Captain D'Argo, if I might make a suggestion..."

D'Argo nods, looking surprised at the acknowledgment of his position.

"Have Ceredin deactivate Sikozu for the time being. Gemmi is putting Scorpius onto a stasis pod at this very moment. Neither of them is an immediate threat. The Scarran dreadnought is."

"That's already been tried," D'Argo growls. "The traitor apparently found a way to deactivate her off switch. Besides, I wouldn't trust her to stay inactive."

Ceredin nods and shrugs. "I'm sorry. With a model this advanced, she could go into a hibernation mode instead of shutting off."

"Then do it--" Bialar begins. After taking a deep breath and turning to face D'Argo, he decides to revise his wording. "Then I recommend you deactivate her by a more direct method." As the Luxan starts to raise his qualta blade, Bialar hastily adds, "Direct, but not permanent."

"Explain," D'Argo says.

"If she loses a sufficient amount of electrolytic fluid, she will fall into a state of osmotic paralysis, correct?" Bialar glances from Talyn to Ceredin, and both nod. "And any damage will be reversible with the help of a competent bioloid technician?"

"That's terrible, Bialar." Ceredin eyes D'Argo's qualta blade and shudders slightly. "We'll have to keep cutting her, because her nanocomponents will try to seal the tubes."

"We're not doing that," Crichton says flatly, crossing his arms.

"No way am I gonna watch you torture a helpless prisoner," Chiana adds.

Sikozu makes a wordless sound of frustration. "I can disable my nanocomponents! If that's what you're going to do with me, then frelling do it before the Scarrans catch up with us all."

"You're going to-- you're going to just... let them?" Chiana asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I can be repaired, as long as I'm not blown to pieces by a Scarran dreadnaught." Sikozu jerks her chin to indicate D'Argo's qualta blade. "Just get it over with."

"We can send her back to the Kalish resistance cell she came from," Ceredin agrees.

No one else voices an objection. D'Argo raises his blade and makes a careful slice across Sikozu's thigh, creating an instant fountain of electrolytic fluid. Within a tenth arn, Sikozu's body goes rigid, not even responding when a pair of DRD's bump into her feet as they suction the fluid from the floor. Talyn and Ceredin both release their grip on Sikozu's arms, and the inactive bioloid clatters to the floor.

D'Argo nods in satisfaction and turns to face the clamshell. "Now that that's taken care of, Pilot, how long do we have to prepare for the dreadnaught?"


	38. An Age of Order

"_We have approximately six arns until the dreadnaught reaches us." _

"Not enough time to repair Lola's cannon." D'Argo looks from Talyn to Aeryn. "What about the stryker and the prowler?"

"The styker's weapons are up and running, but without flight controls, I may not be able to target the weak spots. Six arns..." Talyn shrugs.

"If we use the docking web to get the prowler in here, I'll do what I can," Aeryn promises.

"Pilot, will being inside Moya protect our ships from Mina's brain blast?" Crichton asks.

"_Moya believes so... She says the Atavist would never harm another Leviathan's passengers or cargo." _

"Then use the docking net and get the prowler, the stryker, and Lola inside," D'Argo orders.

"Check Sikozu's transport," Bialar suggests. "If it is still functional, that would indicate that being inside Moya protected it."

"Yeah, drad idea!" Chiana grins as she backs toward the door. "I'll just go, you know, test it." Once she reaches the door, she turns and launches into a full run.

"I can help," Rygel adds, accelerating his hover chair in the direction of the exit.

Bialar lunges toward the Hynerian and seizes one of his ears, bringing the hover chair to an abrupt halt and eliciting a whimper followed by a string of exotic curses, none of which have any effect. Allowing Chiana to flee is dangerous enough, but Bialar has no intention of giving the deposed toad-king the opportunity to betray the rest of them. Rygel would no doubt explain Mina's capabilities in exquisite detail, if offered amnesty, or a plate of marjouls.

After finishing his tirade, Rygel bats ineffectually at Bialar's hand. "You have no authority to detain me!"

"Let 'im go!" Crichton barks. "It's not like we have to worry about either of them taking off in the transport. Not when we don't know the range of Mina's EMP. They wouldn't want to get stuck out there with no power, no supplies..."

Bialar snorts and releases Rygel, who speeds from the room, fondling his ear and muttering about ill-behaved machines. The Human's threat should be enough to detain him.

"Actually, what is the range of Mina's EMP? Pilot, do we know that?" Crichton asks.

"_Less than that of the dreadnaught's weapons, unfortunately."_

"Then maybe Rygel and Chiana have the right idea." Crichton raises a hand to forestall arguments and continues, "The Scarrans only want me, and I'm guessing their orders are to hunt down Moya. The rest of you will fit on the stryker."

"And they'll deploy their own strykers as a general precaution!" Aeryn crosses her arms over her chest. "No. We stand the best chance if we use Mina's attack and then destroy the dreadnaught."

"I'm not leaving Moya," Talyn declares flatly.

"I'm not leaving Talyn." Ceredin loops her arm through Talyn's for emphasis.

Bialar shakes his head. "Gemmi will never abandon Mina."

"I'm not a coward, Crichton," D'Argo growls.

Noranti claps her hands together, blinks her third eye, and says, "I'm making soup!" Having made her announcement, she exits command, humming to herself and walking at a leisurely pace.

"Hey, I tried!" Crichton puts the heels of his hands on one of the consoles and leans back in a posture of resignation.

"We may be able to extend our repair time if we starburst," Bialar offers. "Mina can keep pace by engaging her singularity drive."

D'Argo nods acknowledgment. "Pilot, once we have all three ships in the hangar, have Moya starburst."

"_The ships are loaded now, Captain. However, Moya says that Mina requests her pilot." _

"I'll collect Gemmi," Bialar mutters, scowling as he anticipates the inevitable argument.

As he turns to leave, Ceredin calls after him, "Be careful with her!"

He makes no reply. In fact, he has no need to harm Gemmi in order to get her aboard Mina. As a bioloid, his strength is such that he can physically force her onto a pod without having to damage her to do so. That assumes that Mina is, as of yet, unable to compel Gemmi as Talyn once compelled Bialar.

In Gemmi's laboratory, he finds her hunched over a console next to a table with an inactive bioloid. Near the table stands a stasis pod from which Scorpius's blue-tinged face appears to regard him with an unflinching stare. Bialar steps over chunks of broken glass, reeling to maintain his balance on a floor made slick by coolant fluid. When he reaches Gemmi, he places a hand on her shoulder and squeezes firmly enough to remind her of his strength.

"Come. Mina needs you."

"I know!" Gemmi replies without turning her head, and her fingers continue to dance on the keypad, sending arrays of characters flashing across the display screen. "I'm nearly finished here. Give me a tenth arn and I can have the transfer initiated."

Leave it to a tech to repair a light switch while the command carrier burns-- so goes a Peacekeeper saying the meaning of which Bialar never understood until now. The techs under his command had always been given strict orders to follow and severe consequences for anything less than absolute adherence to those orders. He has been too lenient with Gemmi, allowing her to pursue her research at her own pace, in accordance with whatever catches her interest, and the result is disobedience in a moment of crisis.

He slides his hand down to her elbow and jerks upward, forcing her to stand. "Mina needs you _now. _This is not a matter for discussion. Even the subject of your experiment would agree."

He seizes Gemmi's other elbow as well and turns her to face the stasis pod. Gemmi quickly turns her head, avoiding the sight of the frozen man's disturbingly expressive features. In stasis, Scorpius wears the same look of calculating curiosity that he did in life. Perhaps it is that curiosity that Gemmi finds so compelling, or maybe it is Scorpius's hatred of the Scarran Empire that resonates with her. Regardless, she can finish her misguided attempt at resurrection once she has done her duty as Mina's pilot.

"You don't have to force me!" Gemmi jerks her arms, and he lets go of her elbows. "I'll come with you." She traces the stasis pod with a finger, leaving a trail of melted frost that lingers like a promise, and then begins walking toward the door.

As they make their way to the stasis pod, he asks, "How is Mina reacting to the situation?"

Gemmi closes her eyes and puts a hand on Bialar's arm, letting him lead her as she focuses her attention on the link. "She's frightened, of course. She knows Moya can't outrun the dreadnaught, but she doesn't want people to die because of her. Again, I mean."

"Then reassure her that we will not harm the Scarrans."

They have entered the hanger, where teams of DRDs swarm around Talyn's stryker, Aeryn's prowler, and D'Argo's Luxan vessel. As Gemmi steps over one of the yellow-carapaced droids, she shakes her head. "Why all this if we're only going to run, Bialar?" She gestures to a droid sitting atop Lola's cannon. "I never knew Moya had so many DRDs! And they're all repairing the combat ships."

"We are going to defend ourselves with every available resource, however that knowledge is not necessary in order for Mina to do her part."

"Spoken like a true Peacekeeper," Gemmi mutters as she steps into the pod. "If I lie to her now—assuming I could even do that, I mean-- she won't trust me."

Bialar settles into the pilot's seat of the pod. As he maneuvers the craft out of the hangar, he says, "If she refuses to employ her talent, you will not be alive for her to trust."

"I know." Gemmi has pulled her feet up onto the seat and now sits with her wrists crossed in front of her ankles and her chin on her knees. "Unfortunately, I don't have the luxury of bullying her into agreeing with me."

Mina's tiny hangar opens to accept the pod and quickly closes behind them. Once the atmosphere has been reestablished, the pod door opens, and Gemmi and Bialar walk to the command deck where the hybrid greets them with a soft, subdued chirp.

Gemmi places both her hands on the wall, fingers spread, and leans forward until her forehead also touches Mina's internal skin. "We're going to run, Mina. Can you lock on to Moya and follow after she starbursts?"

The ship's response is a short, flat-sounding beep that reminds Bialar of Ceredin rolling her eyes at some ridiculously obvious question.

"Ah, yes, well, if it's so trivial, then why did you demand I be here?" Gemmi asks.

Mina's lights dim, and she emits a soft string of beeps.

"I don't like being separated either, Mina!" Gemmi sinks to her knees, letting her hands and forehead slide down the wall. "That's why I'm scared. Why I'm frelling terrified, I mean! If you won't help us neutralize the dreadnaught, we'll all be gone, and there's no one to bring any of us back. I'll lose you. I'll lose Cer, and Bialar, and Talyn, too. Do you even understand what it means to be lost, to be dead?"

Even without a direct link to the hybrid, Bialar can guess at the meaning of the petulant, staccato sequence of noises that comprise Mina's reply.

"Well, yes, like the Scarrans in the strykers." Gemmi nods and sighs in frustration. "That will be us if you're not willing to-- no, we can't just disable the dreadnaught and run. Moya can't keep running indefinitely--"

As Mina begins a protest of sound and light, Bialar moves to the center of the command deck and brings a fist down on one of the consoles. "You are the Atavist!" They hybrid appears to be shocked into silence, so he continues, "Your duty extends beyond that which you owe to your pilot and your passengers. Any offspring you produce will have the same abilities that you possess. Your race will soon have the means to end wars by force, Mina." He rests his palms on the console and leans forward, lowering his voice as if taking Mina into his confidence. "I know that this is not fair to ask of you. No child should be forced into battle, but you are the Atavist, and you must learn to sacrifice your enemies in order to clear the path to glory."

Mina beeps, and Gemmi offers a translation. "She wants to know more about ending wars."

Bialar smiles, visualizing Mina as a wide-eyed child enjoying some tale of adventure. He paces as he tells her, "Imagine leading a fleet of your own offspring. Any enemy that dared to violate your interests could be obliterated, and so you would meet with no resistance. You could protect the free Sebacean colonies from Peacekeeper control, liberate your pilot's people from the Scarrans, topple the Nebari Establishment--"

Once again, Mina responds and Gemmi puts the hybrid's question into words. "And she can do all this without killing?"

He considers lying, but decides that Mina's mind is not simplistic enough to be easily deceived. He sighs and shakes his head. "No, Mina, but you will do all that without as _as much _killing as the current factions inflict upon each other."

"You're talking about a whole new scale of military conquest..." Gemmi says softly, shaking her head. "It's fahrbot, or at least it would be if it weren't so frightening."

"I am presenting the possibility of an age of order, of freedom from oppression, and Mina, this possibility now hinges on your ability to protect yourself!" Bialar looks upward and turns in a slow circle as if making his case to a set of judges on a dais.

Gemmi stands, crosses the command deck, and lays a hand on his shoulder. "I'm not translating for Mina. I'm speaking for myself, and I'm asking myself, 'What have I done?' With you, with Mina... all of my frelling with nature... Maybe Crichton is right to call me a mad scientist. Maybe _Talyn _is right, and some things are..."

"No!" Bialar takes both of her hands in his and brings them to his chest. "You were willing to produce bioloids to serve the Scarran empire, to be a partner in murder for the sake of maintaining the status quo. Now you have done something more than serve to survive." He squeezes her hands and smiles. "You are my little Kalish goddess."

"I always hated it when you called me that." Gemmi pulls her hands free and turns to face the viewscreen, where the stars blur past at singular speeds.

"What about Mina? Will she defend herself when the dreadnaught reaches us?"

"I think so. She's... dreaming now. Processing, I mean. That's why she hasn't responded to you."

"Processing," Bialar repeats. He snorts. "Mina is truly nothing like Talyn. She has absorbed your patterns efficiently."

"Then it may be my patterns that get all of us killed." Gemmi chuckles bitterly and crosses her arms over her chest, bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. "This is terrible, being here, just waiting. That's why I wish I were on Moya, in my laboratory, doing something I know how to do."

"I have faith in Mina's ability to listen to reason." Bialar steps toward Gemmi and puts both hands on her waist. "And I have things for you to do."

Predictably, Gemmi seems to melt against him. As he moves his hands over her, he wonders if Mina is aware of his actions, or of Gemmi's responses. The things Gemmi is willing to do for him-- wants to do for him-- flash through link. Smiling, he turns her in the direction of the door that leads from command to her quarters and begins urging her forward. If Gemmi were only a common trader's daughter working at a commerce station, or a lowly technician soldering circuits, she would be desirable. As the Atavist's pilot, she may one day be the most powerful woman in the galaxy, and that makes possessing her imperative.


	39. You Won't Break Me

"Did you find the problem?" Talyn calls.

"_I've made the repair," _Ceredin replies, using the link because she is holding the soldering tool in her teeth as she squirms though a tiny gap in the stryker's internal machinery.

She forces herself to breath deeply and evenly in order to keep her coolant system functioning despite the heat. The sharp smell of burned out circuits stings her nose, and each movement she makes brings the possibility of coming into contact with hot metal or a live wire. Lying on her side, because that's the only way she'll fit through the next bend, she puts her right hand on the floor and pushes herself toward the exit that will return her to the cockpit of the stryker. As she rounds the corner, her blouse catches on something behind her, making a loud ripping sound and impeding her progress.

"Should I send a DRD after you?" Talyn's voice carries a note of fear, and the transponder sends her a barrage of images involving the inside of a budong.

"_No! No DRD's! Nothing else will fit in here with me. Just be patient." _

Giving the blouse up as a lost cause, she stretches her arms over her head and continues to propel herself through the gap, leaving the torn fabric behind. When this is all over, she can install herself on a depository mainframe, forge a few thousand credits, and buy a decent wardrobe for her bioloid.

After a few more macrots of dragging herself through the styker's inner workings, she emerges from the passage and into the cockpit. Talyn immediately seizes both her elbows and hauls her to her feet. He was only trying to help her, of course, but the strain on her cramped muscles is enough to make her wince.

"Sorry," Talyn mutters. He runs a finger lightly over her upper arm. "I just wanted to look at you. You've got scrapes and burns everywhere--"

She slaps his hand away and shakes her head, irritated that apparently, to Talyn, the most interesting things about her are her injuries. "Oh, it's nothing my nanocomponents won't fix. What about the stryker? Is there anything else we need to do?"

"I think we're done. Cer?" Talyn looks over her shoulder as if seeking confirmation.

Ceredin turns and follows his eyes to the main control console, where another instance of her is projecting a hologram. The transparent woman holds a glass which is rapidly filling with a green liquid, indicating the progress of some process. When the glass is full, the hologram flashes a grin and melodramatically tosses the glass over her shoulder where it disappears once it arcs out of range of her projection.

"At the moment, this ship is in better repair than you." The hologram sweeps her eyes over Ceredin and frowns. "I'm not sure I want to know what all that feels like."

Ceredin shifts her weight to her injured leg, testing it, and forces herself not to flinch as a fresh wave of pain courses through her. "It feels like being alive."

"Hm." The hologram shrugs and blinks out of existence, leaving Ceredin staring at a blank viewscreen that offers only a faint reflection of her own half-clothed, damaged body with Talyn standing behind her.

She reaches back, finds his hands, and places one on her waist and the other between her breasts, savoring the feeling of simple contact. When he starts to pull away, she spreads her hands over his and presses them more tightly against her body.

Talyn bends forward and lowers his head so that his cheek brushes hers. "Don't do this now, Cer. You're hurt already..."

She releases his hands, turns to face him, and briefly scans his aura, noting the not-so-subtle heat changes that indicate an impending loss of control. "Hm. You won't break me."

After taking a step back, Ceredin fusses with the clasp on her skirt, taking longer than necessary in order to buy time for a silent conversation.

"_Harvey?" _She squeezes her eyes closed and mentally shouts the name.

"Reporting."

When Ceredin opens her eyes, the cramped, bleak interior of the stryker is gone, replaced by an expansive chamber decorated in crisp red and black Peacekeeper insignia. Talyn is missing too, and the uniformed man in front of her is recognizable only because the sight of his smile leaves her feeling anxious and somehow violated. The man is Sebacean, or at least Sebacoid, like Crichton. His face face is too hollow and angular to be conventionally handsome, but his height makes him striking enough that he would hold her interest.

"This is... different," she observes neutrally.

"An extrapolation of my creator's appearance without the Scarran contamination." Harvey holds up a small hand mirror, which has just popped into existence, and admires his alterations, running a hand through his short, pale brown hair and grinning.

"Hm. It suits you. If you find a Kalish bioloid named Jayza Harton, she can alter your bioloid to look that way." Having offered that piece of advice, Ceredin takes a deep breath and steels herself to ask Harvey for a favor. "I need you to hide yourself from Talyn. Now."

The mirror vanishes, and Harvey fixes her with a puzzled expression. "Talyn is aware of my presence here."

"Yes, but he's not aware that you're... running loose. And..." She sighs and forces herself to look Harvey in the eyes. "He's not aware of the fact I kept the wormhole data for Mina."

"As for my 'running loose'..."

Harvey snaps his fingers, and the Peackekeeper trappings disappear, replaced by a rough stone wall. In place of his officer's uniform, the neural clone now wears only a course, filthy rag tied around his waist. His wiry frame is stretched across the wall, hands and feet held in place by manacles attached to the wall with heavy chains. Crude torches hang on either side of him. The flames sputter in a dank-smelling breeze, painting the clone's near-nude body with a shifting fabric of shadows.

"Oh, I like it." Ceredin grins her approval of Harvey's esthetic. "Now, what about the wormhole data? Talyn's going to find it soon if you don't help me. I could already feel him trying to force the link all the way open when you brought me here. It's urgent--"

"As I told you, time flows differently here. If I choose to make it so." Harvey tilts his head slightly to the right and raises an eyebrow. He licks his lips, managing to appear in control even while shackled and virtually naked. "Talyn will be sending you a data stream soon?"

"If you let me go, then yes." Ceredin twists her body and looks around the cell, noting that the thick wooden door behind her has been barred and locked. "It's part of the Leviathan mating process."

Harvey bobs his chin in a brief nod. "You will decrypt that data stream for me."

"You're bargaining?" Ceredin laughs and throws her hands up. "You're really going to keep me here, frozen in time--"

"I cannot 'freeze' time, Ceredin, I can merely alter our perception of it. In the world of Talyn's perception, approximately ten microts have passed since you became unresponsive. Given his predilection for reading heat signatures, he may realize you are not simply stunned by his crude efforts to approximate Sebacean sexual behavior."

Ceredin makes a wordless noise of frustration and considers throttling Harvey with her bare hands. "I now see why Crichton detested you, you know. Even when you're not working for Scorpius, you're a manipulative drannit."

"I assume I can consider that your assent to my proposal."

"Yes, fine." She waves a hand and shrugs. "I don't know what you even want the information for anyway. Just let me--"

"Just let you what?" Talyn breathes into her ear. His hands are on her waist, and his cheek is pressed against hers.

"Just, ah, step back and let me look at you." She puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him away, feeling a surge of illogical gratitude toward Harvey for returning her to normal awareness.

Talyn raises his arms and lets them fall, shaking his head in confusion. "I'm just... this."

Ceredin smiles and walks around him in a slow circle, letting her fingers run over his chest and then his shoulders. "There's nothing 'just' about 'this,' Talyn. Jayza is a genius. She made you very beautiful. In a brutish sort of way, of course, but still... beautiful."

She laces her fingers behind his neck and bends her knees, pulling him down with her until the two of them are kneeling on the floor. That change in position seems to flip a switch in Talyn. His aura blazes, a flaring corona of infrared, and the link opens completely. Ceredin is bombarded by an onslaught of new sensations, which she quickly recognizes as Talyn's own sensory information. She can feel the softness of her own body underneath his as he pushes her onto the floor. A spike of intense pleasure accompanies a blinding jolt of pain, and she loses track of which sensations belong to whom. Along with the sensory signals, she receives a blur of data containing the collective memories of an entire race, along with Talyn's own past, all racing into her awareness, filling her until her mind is ready to burst.

"Cer?"

Talyn touches her cheek, and she opens her eyes to see him frowning at moisture on his hand.

"It's alright." She props herself up on her elbows, noting that according to her internal chronograph, she was lost for the last ten macrots. "It's just a bit overwhelming."

"Sorry. I tried to be careful with you--"

She laughs and sits all the way up, leaning back against the wall. "It's not... that part of it. That part of it was... spectacular. It's the data stream. There's so much I didn't know, so many horrible things in your memories, it's no wonder..." A hot tear falls from her jaw onto her chest, and she looks away from Talyn. "Tell me about Kateri."

He shrugs. "It's all there. See for yourself. She was a Leviathan merchant ship I met a few monens after I bonded with Bialar. She was brave, and she was beautiful, and when I saw the Peacekeeper vessles that killed, her I obliterated them, along with a collared Leviathan carrying an Ancient. I couldn't tell which pieces were part of what ship, couldn't see through the debris cloud, but Bialar swore there wasn't enough left of her to take to the burial ground."

"There's more than that..." Ceredin swallows and continues in a whisper, not trusting her voice. "You would have been a father, Talyn."

"It's not something I like to think about. Besides, it would have been a monster. Some things are better off not being."

"I know you don't believe that." She shakes her head. "I've seen you with Mina."

"It wouldn't have been like Mina! She's as much Gemmi's design as she is Bialar's, which makes her as much like you as like me. The offspring would have been a nearly perfect copy of me in all the ways that matter-- weapons, reconnaissance system, early reproductive development. If it lived for a cycle, there would have been more of them. Of me."

"Still... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm not. I wish every solar day that I hadn't met Kateri, but I never wish-- It doesn't matter. Some things are better off not being."

"As much as I hate to interrupt..." Ceredin's own voice comes from the control panel of the stryker. "I believe one of this things-- a Scarran dreadnaught, specifically-- will be arriving within the arn."

Without being asked, the bioloid version of Ceredin stands, helps pull Talyn to his feet, and connects a cable from the console to the back of his neck. She could pilot the stryker herself if she had to, but even with a copy of Talyn's flight AI, she lacks his experience and his gift for instantaneous and unthinking violence. Talyn's physical link with the ship will make it almost an extension of his body.

Through the transponder, she can feel his excitement. The sense of completeness he now has mimics what he felt just macrots ago, with her, and she fights a surge of irritation.

"You could still go to Mina," Talyn offers. "If her EMP doesn't work, Bialar ordered Gemmi to retreat. We're not going to run, no matter what."

"I know." She moves to stand beside him, resting her hands on his shoulders. "I'm still staying."


	40. Like a Hynerian Hatchling

On Mina's viewscreen, Moya flashes in an out of starburst against the backdrop of the stars, which are reduced to blurs of motion and light as Mina races past them. Gemmi stands silhouetted against the screen, staring at a display readout that shows three converging blips. Bialar can feel her rigid muscles screaming their agony through the link, but still Gemmi remains at attention. Even Ceredin's hologram is still for once, frozen like a raptor's prey. The largest of the three blinking indicators lurches forward on the readout, nearly touching the other two glowing dots, and Gemmi's shoulders slump in relief.

The Scarran dreadnaught is now within firing range, and both Mina and Moya remain in tact. Bialar had expected this; without knowing which vessel carries Crichton, the Scarrans have no choice but to attempt to capture both the mother and the offspring. Still, he takes a step toward Gemmi, prepared to brace her in case of an assault.

The blurred stars resolve into clear, sharp points, and Moya pivots so that her aft portion is visible on the screen. Bialar and Gemmi both stumble as Mina rotates, too, so that the dreadnaught replaces Moya's image on the screen. The Scarran ship has a spherical section with a glowing aperture in the center, giving it the appearance of a head with one baleful eye.

Mina's instrument panels chirp a question, and Gemmi replies, "Yes, put him through."

Over the comms, a voice says, _"Leviathan, prepare for boarding. You will--"_

"No." Gemmi shakes her head slowly as the comm goes silent.

Several microts pass, and Bialar envisions a perplexed Scarran commander pouring over the sensor sweeps in a frantic effort to see what might warrant an act of defiance.

"_Your vessel will be taken into custody after--"_

Mina beeps vehemently, her vocalizations drowning out the Scarran's voice.

"No, I'm not going to say that! I told you, we can't just keep running." Gemmi snaps.

The lights dim. As the Scarran continues his instructions, Mina makes another sequence of beeps, lower and softer this time, like a growl.

Gemmi throws her hands up and shrugs. "Yes, fine."

After another pause in the comm transmission, the voice says, _"So you will comply with the search and seizure of your vessel?" _

"That's not what I've agreed to." Gemmi steps toward Mina's viewscreen and looks directly at the single glowing eye of the dreadnaught. Bialar wonders if she realizes that the aperture is a cannon and not a visual detector. "I've agreed to give you a warning. Leave Mina--"

The hybrid whistles an interjection.

"--and Moya, of course, obviously," Gemmi continues. "Leave Mina and Moya alone. Go now and we will let you--"

Another string of beeps issues from Mina.

"Well, it's hardly necessary to include Talyn and Ceredin!" Gemmi protests, her words mingled with the sound of chuckling that comes over the comms. "It's best to keep these sorts of things simple."

"_Are you making a threat?" _

"Ah, yes, well, it's more of an ultimatum, really." Gemmi folds her arms across her chest.

Bialar steps in front of her and raises a hand to signal silence. "Enough. They have been provided more opportunity than they deserve." He leans forward, bringing his face close to one of Mina's auditory detectors, and whispers, "Mina, now."

On the face of the dreadnaught, a hangar opens, releasing a small, wedge-shaped vessel.

"Mina!" Bialar hisses. "When that craft reaches us, it will attach itself to your hull and make an incision large enough to admit an exploratory team of Scarrans, who will be impervious to your stun weapons. If they are knowledgeable about Leviathan anatomy, the breach will occur near the neural cluster, allowing them to sever your higher functions immediately. If you are less fortunate, you will be conscious as they--"

"Bialar." Gemmi interrupts him by tapping on his arm and pointing to the viewscreen, where two more of the small, unfamiliar craft have joined the first. "They're going to attack Mina and Moya at the same time!"

Even as Gemmi speaks, Bialar feels something through the link, a sort of tautness, like the contraction of a muscle. He takes Gemmi by the shoulders, pulling her against him in an irrational, instinctive attempt to strengthen their connection. He wants desperately to be joined with Mina as she neutralizes an enemy with nothing more than her mind.

Gemmi tenses against him and inhales sharply as if in anticipation of a blow.

The release happens silently without so much as a chirp from the instrument panel. The change in Mina's datastreams is subtle enough to be merely imagined, but on the viewcreen, the glow of the dreadnaught's eye fades and dies. With nothing to damp their inertia, the three boarding vessels continue toward Mina and Moya. The hybrid banks, forcing Bialar to clutch a console for balance, and darts toward the oncoming ships. As they collide with Mina, she banks again so that the smaller vessels spin as they bounce away.

"Frelling brilliant!" Ceredin's hologram claps her hands and grins.

"Well done, Mina!" Gemmi sighs, wriggles away from Bialar, and slumps into a chair near the viewscreen.

"You are the Atavist," Bialar whispers to Mina.

One of the Scarran exploration vessels bounces off the hull of the dreadnaught and begins sailing toward Mina again. Mina darts forward, knocking the vessel once more and sending it back toward the dreadnaught. Her display lights flicker as she makes a sound eerily like the laughter of a Sebacean child, and Gemmi lowers her face into her hands, shaking her head.

"_Aeryn, D'Argo, and Talyn are ready to go." _Crichton's voice comes over the comm. _"What the hell is Mina doing?"_

"I believe she is... playing." Bialar looks to Gemmi and receives a nod of confirmation. Once again, the Scarran ship glances off of Mina's hull, eliciting electronic giggles.

"_This'll be a lot easier without having to play dodgeball. Can you make her stop? Tell her she's grounded for a week with no cesium fuel or something?" _

"I can try," Gemmi offers. She closes her eyes and brings her hands to her temples. "Mina, stop it! Move out of the way next time, I mean. Just let it go past you!"

With a low, petulant beep, Mina pitches backwards like an animal rearing up on hind legs. When the smaller vessel strikes the bottom of her hull, she pitches forward again. Now the only visible craft on the viewscreen is the dreadnaught, but the sensor display shows three projectiles are now drifting away in different directions.

"That will work," Gemmi mutters, still resting her forehead on her palm.

"That is hardly behavior suited to the Atavist!" Bialar disagrees.

Mina's response needs no translation from Gemmi; Bialar recalls hearing the same burst of frequencies from Talyn too many times to count. As he watches Talyn, D'Argo, and Aeryn approach the dreadnaught in their respective attack vessels, he vows to take an active role in improving Mina's vocabulary.

Immobilized, the dreadnaught remains frozen as the three comparatively tiny ships pelt it with fire in an attempt to cripple its engines. A well-aimed shot at its cannon could destroy the dreadnaught entirely, but this slow, non-lethal attack will show Mina that enemies can be dominated without being destroyed.

The images on the viewscreen grow larger, and Bialar realizes that Mina is propelling herself slowly forward. Within macrots, the hull of the dreadnaught takes up the entire screen and still the hybrid denches forward as if hypnotized.

"Tell her to retreat!" Bialar barks.

"She's curious." Gemmi shrugs and leans back in her chair, appearing content to stare at the screen and watch one of the dreadnaught's engines become a useless, twisted lump under fire from Talyn's stryker.

"She could be caught in the crossfire."

Ceredin's hologram snorts. "Hm. You're saying D'Argo, Aeryn, and Talyn can hit an evasively moving target, but they can't avoid hitting Mina when she's crawling like a Hynerian hatchling?"

The hull of the dreadnaught is now close enough that he can make out individual bolts and scratches in the coating.

"What I am saying is that any living enemy is a threat. Curiosity is not a reason to risk exposure."

Gemmi chuckles, her eyes shining with the reslak-like glow of a perceived victory. "That's a very Sebacean sentiment! That kind of thinking is probably why the Peacekeepers are losing ground to the Scarrans. If you were a bit more curious--"

"Then we would be completely under their dominion, as are the Kalish!"

Gemmi opens her mouth and then closes it, compressing her lips into a hard line. Mina continues her agonizingly slow sweep of the dreadnaught's hull.

After a tenth arn of silence, Mina jerks to a stop and Gemmi falls forward, gasping as if struck. The sensation that reverberates through the transponder is like the feeling of being stabbed with a blunt instrument. Mina's engines surge as she attempts to free herself, but something has latched onto her. Gemmi's scream of shared pain accompanies the shriek of tearing metal.


	41. It Will Be Worse

Bialar catches Gemmi as she staggers toward him, her scales bright and gawdy against her ashen face. Her mouth hangs open, and she breaths in shallow, erratic gasps. Her eyes are unfocused, and her pupils fluctuate between dilation and contraction. Another tearing sound comes from Mina's lower deck and Gemmi howls like an animal.

He tightens his grip on her upper arm so that he can hold her upright with only one hand, leaving the other free to deliver a carefully measured blow across her face. His slap leaves an angry red imprint on her cheek but fails to return her awareness to her own body. He bellows at her through the link, ordering her to comport herself in a manner that befits the pilot of the Atavist.

When none of his actions elicit a response, he swings an arm under Gemmi's legs and holds her out like an offering. "Mina! Look what you are doing to your pilot! Gain control of yourself immediately!"

"You're not getting through to them. To either of them. And you have more important things to worry about." Ceredin raises an insubstantial arm to point toward the view screen. "Look."

Bialar drapes Gemmi over his shoulder and watches as the image on the screen toggles between the views offered by Mina's various cameras. A vision sensor mounted on the outside of her hull shows three barbed metal hooks caught in her skin, anchoring her to the surface of the dreadnaught. An internal camera shows the tip of a serrated blade rising through the hole it has cut in her underbelly and then disappearing again, sending out sparks as it scrapes against the metallic flesh it is slicing.

"Can Mina send another EMP?" Bialar asks.

"What would be the point? This is a purely mechanical attack."

"How much damage would she sustain if she used the singularity drive to pull away from the dreadnaught?"

"I don't know. Some of the hooks are near essential systems, and I can't get enough of a response from Mina to ask what she thinks." Ceredin throws her hands up and then lets them fall. "You have to find someplace to hide Gemmi. They're coming."

On the screen, the blade continues to saw through Mina's skin, cutting an arc that will soon become a circle large enough to admit a Scarran body. Gemmi shudders and convulses in response to each stroke of the knife, muttering Kalish curses interspersed with Mina's name.

Bialar shifts Gemmi's weight so that he can carry her comfortably. "Where do you suggest?"

"There's an empty coolant tank near the singularity drive. You should both fit." One of Ceredin's hands passes through Gemmi's hair as the hologram makes a futile gesture of comfort.

"Do what you can to assist us." Bialar turns and exits command through the hatch leading down into Mina's lower deck.

The sound of tearing metal is louder now, and the strokes of the blade are growing faster, as if the Scarrans are spurred on by the knowledge that their task is almost complete. Distracted by the noise and by Gemmi's squirming, he trips on a protruding pipe and is sent sprawling with Gemmi crushed beneath him.

A mechanical whine buzzes in his ear, and a flexible antenna prods him with a jab to the shoulder. He raises his head to see on of Moya's DRDs. The DRD taps him again and then flicks its antenna in the direction of the cutting sounds.

"I am aware!" Bialar snaps. As the DRD turns away, he props himself up on one hand and uses the other to grab the droid. "Wait. The Scarrans will be coming aboard Mina soon. Can you and the others provide a distraction for them?"

Without pivoting to face him, the DRD bends an antenna so that Bialar can see its lighted tip. The light blinks once, and then the DRD zooms away.

The sound of Gemmi's ragged breathing is obscenely loud. Each beat of her heart rings like a hammer blow, filling the acoustic void that can only mean the Scarrans have finished their cutting.

"They've stopped," Gemmi whispers.

"Can you walk now?" Bialar tugs her to her feet without waiting for an answer. Dragging her behind him, he navigates through Mina's maze of pumps and pipes. If they can reach the empty coolant tank before the Scarrans make their entrance, then Gemmi will be safe and he will be able to devise a plan to free Mina.

"It still hurts us, Bialar." Gemmi's voice has risen half and octave and lost some of its fullness, becoming childish and tinny.

"Quiet!" he hisses.

Ahead of them, a Scarran voice barks orders that are punctuated with the sound of boots on metal floors. In the dim light, all he can see of the enemy is shadowy figures moving among the machinery. One of the shadows makes a sudden move, and he hears the clang of metal being struck.

Gemmi whimpers and mutters, "Reason! Why did they do that to us? I don't understand!"

"Vandalism will not be tolerated!" a voice shouts. Bialar recognizes it as belonging to the Scarran commander who, less than an arn ago, was receiving Gemmi's ultimatum. "Spread out and find the crew. We need to find out where they're keeping the weapons, and we need this creature in tact for study."

"I heard something over here," one of the Scarrans says.

Bialar pulls Gemmi to the ground and rolls underneath a nest of wires and cables just as a bright searchlight sweeps past. The beam swings erratically, illuminating various bits of machinery before fixing on Bialar's hiding place.

"I think I see--" the Scarran begins.

The distinctive buzz of a DRD comes from somewhere behind the Scarran, and another of the soldiers calls, "It's one of the droids. This way."

"I feel a heat aura." The light beam jiggles as if the Scarran is using his search light to gesture toward Gemmi and Bialar. His footsteps grow louder.

_What will they do to us? _Gemmi's mind-voice has the same new, tinny ring as her physical voice. _Will it be like assessment? _

_It will be worse. _Bialar regrets his response and tries to staunch the flood of memories coursing through his circuits. The sight of vivisected Leviathans had once caused him no more pain than that of a stripped pulse rifle, but that was before Talyn, before Mina.

Careful to avoid sudden motion, he pushes Gemmi deeper in the forest of cords, shielding her from sight with his own body. He props himself up on one elbow, ready to rise into a fighting stance at the moment of discovery. He can at least ensure that the life of the Atavist is traded for those of a few Scarrans.

The footsteps come closer, bringing the blinding white light with them. Once the Scarran reaches him, that light can be seized and employed as a blunt weapon.

A DRD bursts from behind a metal shaft, its tool arm extended and squirting fluid around the Scarran's feet. The light beam dances wildly as the Scarran steps toward the DRD and then reels for balance. The droid runs in a circle, taunting the Scarran by wiggling its antenni. The soldier lunges to grab his biomechanoid assailant, slips on the fluid, and falls with a reverberating thud.

_Run! _Bialar orders Gemmi as he drags her from their hiding place.

When the Scarran rises to his feet, he is facing away from them, and his attention appears fixed on the DRD, which darts forward and then zooms back, staying just out of reach.

Pulling Gemmi by her elbow, Bialar runs from one shadowy corner to the next, careful to keep a large piece of machinery between himself and any Scarrans at all times. After a tenth arn of ducking and running doubled over, they reach the empty coolant tank and climb inside.

When Ceredin had said that they would both fit, she had clearly been employing some sort of optimization algorithm. Finding a configuration for their two bodies that allows both of them to breath takes nearly as long as reaching the tank. In order for their combined circumference to be less than that of the tank, Gemmi had to raise her arms and rest her elbows on on his shoulders. His hands are plastered to the back of her neck.

_What now? _Gemmi wonders. She is still panting from the effort of wriggling into the tank, and her breath is hot on his face.

_For now, you are safe. _He tries to push her thoughts away. He needs time to think, to plan.

_But we're not! They're still hurting us, hurting with torches now, fusing live skin to dead metal, burning us to the surface of their ship. Can't get away, can't stop them--_

_Gemmi! _

_Still hurting us outside and walking inside, walking on command, and we try to shoot them, but the stun doesn't work--_

Bialar lowers his head, letting his cheek brush hers. The implication of the change in Gemmi's demeanor has just become clear. The pain signals shared by both Gemmi and Mina have catalyzed an unexpected reaction. Perhaps as a consequence of early bonding, or maybe as a result of Gemmi's unwholesome predilection for attachments, the mind of the Leviathan has fused with that of her pilot.

_Mina? _

_Yes? _

With his right hand, Bialar pushes away Gemmi's hair. The fingers of his left hand trace circles on the back of her neck until they find the familiar ring of scar tissue and the cold metal spike inside it.

_Mina, you are my crowning glory, and you will survive to reach your true potential. Trust that all I do is for that end. _His fingers clamp down on the butt of Gemmi's transponder, and a flick of his wrist removes the device from her neck.

Gemmi whimpers at the shock of being severed from her Leviathan, but he anticipated that, and so her sounds are muffled by his lips. Once he is sure she will be silent, he moves his mouth to her ear to whisper, "Stay quiet. I need to speak with Talyn now." 


	42. Everything I Know

"Oh, I don't know how you you can be enjoying this!" Ceredin jerks her chin toward the stryker's viewscreen, which sparkles with the tiny shards of one of the dreadnaught's comm towers. "They're not even firing back. This is just... drudgery, really."

"It's almost like being whole," Talyn mutters, not willing to disengage himself from the stryker enough to give her a proper answer. Linked to the stryker, he can see for metras and metras. He can trace the surface of the dreadnaught, exploring it with sensors that quantitate every detail, filling his mind with data he had almost forgotten that he craved. More importantly, he can once again act at a distance, using the tools at his disposal to affect a change. He fires the stryker's pulse cannon with a single thought, and another comm tower bursts into glittering dust.

"Hm." Ceredin moves to stand behind him and leans forward so that wisps of her hair tickle his cheek. She squeezes his shoulder, dragging part of his awareness back into his bioloid body. "I thought you realized you _are_ whole."

For the next few microts, his link with Ceredin overrides the connection to the stryker as she replays images of the two of them entwined on the floor.

"That's different." Talyn smirks even as he pushes her out of his mind and uses the stryker's cannon to obliterate what his sensors say is a weapons storage cell. He cranes his neck to look at Ceredin, not needing his eyes on the viewscreen to guide the stryker. "I guess I could let your other instance fly for a while."

"'Let me!'" Above the control console, Ceredin's hologram throws up her hands. "Of course you don't bother asking me, you just assume I'll be glad to do all the actual work while you--"

The hologram continues to gesture dramatically, but her vocalizations cut off when the bioloid version of Ceredin reaches across Talyn's body and flips a switch on the control panel. She then moves to face him and laces her fingers behind his neck.

"Sorry, Cer." Talyn shrugs and mumbles an apology to the hologram, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head before blinking out of visual existence in a violent flash of light.

"Don't be," the bioloid pants into his ear. "She understands."

"I guess." Talyn runs a hand down her back, deciding that there's no point in having two instances of her furious with him.

Ceredin is already fiddling with the clasp on his pants as she peppers his neck and chest with kisses. Instead of letting her proceed, he grabs both of her wrists and pulls her hands down to her sides. He can take his time with her this time, use some of the things he learned from his internal sensors. Data that was once only a source of morbid curiosity now holds intriguing potential. He takes her by the hips and lifts her onto a flat portion of the control console so that she sits with her legs dangling outward and her back pressing against the viewscreen.

He sees a flash of light out of the corner of his eye and turns to look, hiding his divided attention by clasping Ceredin's head to his chest. Still muted, the hologram taps her own eye with her index finger and then points toward the view screen. What he sees there triggers a burst of blind rage. Because he is still linked to the stryker, the cannon fires, blasting a hole in the dreadnaught's hull.

"Talyn, don't!" Ceredin begs. She has climbed down from the console and stands beside him, watching the view screen with her mouth half-open. "We're too close to Mina!"

He yanks out the cord that connects him to the stryker just as fresh wave of rage surges through him. Ceredin flips a switch on the console, giving back her spectral double's voice.

"She's right. We're too close." The hologram sinks to her knees and Talyn watches over her head as Scarrans in vacuum suits begin welding Mina to the hull of the dreadnaught, working around the hooks that already hold her biomechanoid skin to the cold metal.

"What about Bialar? Gemmi?" The two Ceredins ask in eerie unison.

Talyn concentrates on the link but only gets an attenuated sense of urgency and fear along with a few vague sensory impressions. "He doesn't want to talk right now. I think they're running. Trying to hide. He's scared. What they're doing-- it's going to kill her. All the pain is going to kill her."

"Oh, Mina..." Ceredin's bioloid reaches out a hand toward the screen.

"Not Mina. It's hezmana for her, but she'll survive a hull wound, at least until the Scarrans vivisect her. He's scared it's going to kill Gemmi."

The hologram rises to her feet and slowly turns to face her solid counterpart. "You have to try it. You have to give Mina what you took for her."

Ceredin glances at the viewscreen then at Talyn before nodding to the hologram. "Only as a last resort."

Before Talyn can answer, Bialar's mind-voice intrudes. _Talyn, we are in a difficult situation._

_I know._

_Can you fire with enough precision to get Mina free?_

Talyn runs a quick set of mental calculations and then performs another iteration even as both Ceredins shake their heads in vehement negation. _The stryker isn't calibrated for that kind precision. I can't promise Mina will make it._

The pause before Bialar's reply feels like an eternity. _We cannot allow her to become a Scarran research subject._

"Wait!" Ceredin grabs Talyn's arm as he reaches for the connector cable that will link him with the stryker. _Wait. Bialar, do you still have some of Moya's DRDs?_

_Yes, there are several still in tact._

"Talyn..." Ceredin puts her hands on his shoulders, tilts her head slightly, and meets his eyes. "What would you do to save Mina?"

"Anything! Frell, Cer, I'll do anything. I don't care what. You know that."

"Then give me your transponder." She holds out her hand. _And Bialar? You'll need to switch with Gemmi. I need as direct a link to Mina as possible._

"What are you going to do?" Talyn drops the transponder into Ceredin's hand.

She twists her hair around her left hand and brings the metallic spike to the back of her neck with her right. "I'm going to synch with my instance on Mina. She'll know everything I know."

"I don't see how that helps."

"There's a Human saying, Talyn. Knowledge is power." Ceredin's eyes go blank and her expression freezes as the data transfer process begins.


	43. To Be Transformed

"What are you doing?" Gemmi hisses.

Bialar ignores the question, focusing all of his concentration on contorting his arms into position so that he can replace his own transponder with the one he just removed from Gemmi. She whimpers as one of his elbows hits her jaw and gasps as their foreheads collide with a painful crack. The noises heighten Bialar's awareness of how vulnerable the two of them are in their hiding place. Jammed into the empty coolant tank, he and Gemmi are like pickled marjouls ready to be devoured.

Having maneuvered Gemmi's transponder into place, Bialar braces himself and then, with a twitch of his fingers, plunges into Mina's awareness.

_Gemmi! _Mina's mind-voice has the same shrill note of panic that Bialar would expect from an injured child. The pain and confusion wracking her higher functions would bring him to his knees if his body were not constrained in an upright position.

_I'm here, Mina. _He forces his mind to form the words as he builds a barrier between his own sensations and Mina's. _Your pilot is safe. You require a captain now. _

"Can you help her?" Gemmi whispers into his ear so softly that he detects the words more by the motion of her lips than the sound of her voice.

"That remains to be seen." 

Superimposed on the dark interior of the coolant tank, he sees images from Mina's internal cameras. Five Scarrans, two of them upper caste, are on the command deck. The one Bialar recognizes as the dreadnaught's commander is seated in Gemmi's chair, pounding futilely at the control console. Ceredin's hologram perches atop Mina's guidance system, clutching handfuls of her spectral skirt and ignoring the attentions of two Scarrans, one of whom attempts to seize her by the waist while the other applies his heat ray. A sixth Scarran patrols the hallway between command and Gemmi's living quarters. The lower deck is now empty, save for the DRDs, thank fortune. When he is finished assessing the situation, he and Gemmi can work on extracting themselves from the coolant tank.

_Bialar? _Ceredin's query comes through the link, accompanied by a sense of her biting a lock of hair and tugging on it at the same time.

_Yes. What is it you think you can do? _

_That depends. Do the DRD's have access to the singularity drive? Could they make... modifications? _The final word reverberates with possibility, and Bialar feels his lips pull into a smile.

_Possibly. _

_Then they'll have to try. Mina needs every tool at her disposal. I'm going to synch with my instance on Mina's data spools, and the datastream is going to flow through you. Are you ready? _

_Do what you believe is necessary._

What comes barreling through the link in reply consists of neither words nor images. The stream of indescribable Ceredin-ness floods his awareness and leaves his synthetic synapses sputtering. For a moment, he glimpses a world comprised entirely of data structures, experiences an existence where every sensation is neatly cataloged and relegated to an appropriate node. Memories zoom past, flowing into an eager receptacle within, but separate from, Mina's consciousness. The feel of fabric on soft skin, the layout of the stryker's control circuits, the pleasure and pain and confusion of sex with Talyn-- the minutia of Ceredin's existence whip through his brain, followed by something exquisitely incomprehensible. Elegant equations dance past his understanding, trailing tubes of blue light. Mechanical specifications chase them across his awareness, and when they reach their goal, the deluge of information stops.

_It's done. _Ceredin's mind-voice sounds like twins speaking in unison. _Now everything depends on the DRD's. _

_Very good. I can return Gemmi's link with Mina. _

_No! Scarran heat glands will work on Gemmi, not on you. If they capture her, they'll know everything she does, and if she's linked to Mina... _Ceredin conveys the image of a shudder.

Bialar nods to himself. _That is not an acceptable risk. I will remain linked to the Atavist-- to Mina-- as she comes into possession of the most powerful technology imagined. _

_Hm. You say that as if you're frightened of it. _The link snaps, going dead in a way that can only mean the bioloid version of Ceredin has removed her transponder. He can still sense the other version of her at work on Mina's mainframe, orchestrating the actions of the DRD's as her hologram continues to taunt the Scarrans.

He closes his eyes, imaging the thrill of power even as he dreads the temptation that will come with it. "It will be a crowning glory..."

"What will be?" Gemmi breathes into his ear.

"You are not required to possess that information!" he snaps, falling back on Peacekeeper rhetoric.

"'Not required to possess...?'" Gemmi hisses. "As Mina's Pilot, I would say I'm 'required to possess'--"

"You are required to trust me!" Unable to raise his voice, he emphasizes his words by squeezing her upper arms and lifting. "Now, climb out of the tank."

"But the Scarrans--"

"Are on the upper deck. Climb out, Gemmi." Even whispering, he manages to make the words an order. Though his circuitry allows him to ignore the pain of her hipbone jammed into his thigh, the close confines of the tank have given him an intense sympathy with Talyn's claustrophobia.

After several macrots of clambering over each other, the two of them emerge from the coolant tank. As Bialar moves his limbs to restore the flow of electrolytic fluid, Gemmi leans against the tank, taking deep, slow breaths.

"Giving up the link to Mina-- it's like being blinded," she whispers. "Like being struck blind and deaf and losing a part of myself at the same time."

"I know." He takes one of Gemmi's hands, lacing his fingers firmly through hers. "If the Scarran's patrol the lower deck again, I will lead you based on Mina's data."

From across the dim, cavernous reaches of the lower deck, the sound of tiny hammer blows commences. A few microts later, the metallic drumbeat is accompanied by the whine of a saw, and Bialar smiles.

"What do you think they're doing?" Gemmi wonders. "The DRD's, I mean."

"Gathering materials."

One of the droids zooms toward the singularity drive, carrying a nest of wires in its claw and flanked by two biomechanoid companions who wield a soldering attachment and a small pile of scrap metal, respectively. The droid with the scrap metal drops its load, turns, and heads back for more material while the other two busy themselves with the singularity drive.

After letting go of Bialar's hand, Gemmi goes down on her hands and knees to watch the machines work. One of them fumbles with a wire that keeps springing loose from its claw, and Gemmi reaches out to hold the wire in place, eliciting a grateful chirp from the DRD.

_Hide! _Mina shouts the command, which is accompanied by the image of Scarrans climbing the ladder to the lower deck.

"They're searching the lower deck again." Bialar uses the back of Gemmi's shirt to haul her to her feet, ignoring the DRD's protest at having lost its assistant.

Gemmi jerks her chin toward the coolant tank. "Back in there?"

Bialar shakes his head. "No time to get in. This way!"

He picks his way through an obstacle course of pipes, dragging Gemmi behind him. In his mind's eye, he sees a map of the lower deck with blinking lights indicating the Scarrans and an arrow pointing to a viable hide-out between a nutrient tank and its pump. The floor grows slick as they approach their destination, and Gemmi slips, bringing him down beside her. Thick fluid soaks through his pants and oozes between his fingers. A smell reminiscent of an ill-kempt mess hall assaults his nostrils, and he hears Gemmi gag. He releases her hand, and the two of them crawl the remaining distance to the niche between the pump and the tank.

Gemmi squats on the balls of her feet and wraps her arms around her legs, tucking her chin between her knees. "Give me back Mina's transponder," she whispers.

He wipes his hand on his shirt, ready to place it over her mouth if necessary. He can hear both the approaching Scarran footsteps and the labors of the DRD's. "Gemmi--"

"I want to say goodbye to Mina, and to Ceredin and Talyn. So give it back."

He crouches behind Gemmi and wraps his arms over hers, clamping them to her sides to prevent her from doing anything foolish.

"It's only a matter of time before they find us!" Gemmi hisses.

He brings his mouth close to her ear. "Time is all we need."

_Finished soon! _Mina agrees.

"Time," Gemmi repeats.

The noise of the DRD's continues, but the Scarran footsteps have stopped. When Bialar peers out from under the nutrient pump, he sees large, booted feet surrounding the singularity drive. His hands tighten involuntarily on Gemmi's forearms, eliciting a gasp from her.

"What is this device?" one of the Scarran's growls. "Do we allow the drones to continue repairs?"

"The techs are going to vivisect this creature anyway. What does it matter?" another one muses. The words are punctuated by the toe of a boot connecting with a biomechanoid hull.

Oblivious to the act of violence, the DRD continues its delicate work.

Bialar releases Gemmi and stands, ready to attack unless the Scarran commander gives an order to allow the "repairs" to proceed. If he can manage to wrest a weapon from one of the soldiers, he might be able to use it on the others before ceasing to function. Gemmi can then take Mina's transponder and--

"Time!" Gemmi has risen to her feet also, and has turned to face him. "I can give you that! Don't do anything stupid. They won't kill me here; I'm a wanted fugitive. So I don't need you. Mina does."

With that, she ducks, clearly having anticipated that he would grab for her. After darting from their hiding place, she shouts, "I surrender!"

The Scarran commander looks up from the DRD's and favors Gemmi with a reptilian smile.

With raised arms and open hands, Gemmi walks toward the Scarran's, struggling to keep her balance as she wades through the spreading puddle of nutrient fluid. The Scarran commander extends a claw toward Gemmi, and the air between them begins to shimmer. Gemmi cries out but continues to stagger forward. A twitch of the commander's talon heralds a stronger surge of energy from his heat gland, and this time Gemmi collapses, landing on her hands and knees.

She tilts her head upward, like a tame beast facing its master. "I'm.... who you're looking for," she pants. "I'm this Leviathan's pilot."

"Fahrbot!" One of the Scarran soldiers snickers. "Kalish thinks it's a Pilot!"

The commander bends forward, takes Gemmi's chin, and jerks her face from side to side, studying it at various angles. "It isn't just a Kalish. It's the little traitor from the research station. The bounty on this one is considerable. Pick the prisoner up." He gestures to one of his reports.

Grinning-- probably at the sound of the word "bounty"-- a Scarran drone holsters his weapon and swings Gemmi over his shoulder.

As the Scarran's retreat with their prize, Bialar edges out from behind the pump. Mina's mind-voice wails in his head, but he relegates it to the fringe of his awareness. The DRD's swarm around the singularity drive, tools buzzing, sending sparks into the air.

"Mina," he whispers. "You are about to be transformed."


	44. Behind You

"Tell me everything about the Leviathan." Bialar's rich voice brims with enthusiasm, and Gemmi sits up in bed, eager, as always, to talk about her work.

"She's..." Gemmi begins, frowning. Something isn't right. This doesn't make sense. Bialar should know everything about Mina. He was one of the architects of her design. "This is wrong!"

Gemmi shakes her head. The room begins to spin. For a moment, she sees a reptilian face scowling over her, feels the pain of various bruises and lesions in her injured body, hears the voice of a spectral woman call her name.

"So, the ship- she's pretty drad! I want to know everything about her! Tell me about the modifications." Chiana looks over Gemmi's head and smiles into the mirror as she runs a brush through Gemmi's hair.

"You want to know about Mina's technical specifications?" Gemmi asks, raising an eyebrow. That doesn't make sense. Chiana would rather kiss a Hynerian than listen to a technical lecture.

A wave of intense heat sears through the air, making everything shimmer. Shapes and colors blur and run together like ink on wet parchment. A succession of familiar faces appear, each asking her a version of the same question, one she doesn't want to answer, although she can't remember why.

"What's the 411 on your monster, Dr. Frankie?"

"Moya requests that you explain her offspring's development."

"Understanding Mina's capabilities will give me a tactical advantage if I have to defend her."

"No! This isn't right! None of this makes sense!" Gemmi screams in the face of Aeryn Sun.

"You can tell me anything, Gemmina. You can always tell your mother. Tell me about the Leviathan." A Kalish woman with a cloud of unruly copper curls reaches out a hand for one of Gemmi's. Her fingers feel warm and strong and soft. Gemmi looks into the woman's turquoise eyes and feels as if she is staring into a mirror.

"Where are we?" Gemmi wonders. She can't recall the last time she saw her mother. She remembers her father crying, which makes no sense, and she can't recall why.

"We're in the park where I used to take you when you were little. Don't you remember the sculptures, the trees, the paths?"

As her mother waves her hands, pointing, Gemmi notices each detail as if for the first time. She has the feeling that the world around her only exists when she's actually looking at it.

"Tell me what you plan to do with the ship, Gemmina," her mother asks.

"I can't!" Gemmi drops her mother's hand and raises her hands to her temples. For a microt, the heel of her left hand is bloody and sore from a scrape endured while- what? She can't remember, and now her hand is whole.

_Stop it! Stop it, please, you're hurting her! _The familiar voice howls in Gemmi's mind, bringing a burst of pain with it.

"Hurting who?" she wonders aloud.

"No one is being hurt, child. What do you mean when you call yourself the Leviathan's Pilot?" Her mother continues with an edge to her voice that makes Gemmi cringe.

"I- we're linked. By a neural transponder, I mean. I hate to admit it, but it's a Peacekeeper technology invented by-" She can't recall the name, and the memory lapse bothers her more than it should.

"It's doesn't matter, Gemmina. Tell me about what it can do. Can someone else pilot the Leviathan? And tell me about the weapons."

"No, this isn't right! You're-" An image flickers in the back of Gemmi's brain, a set of folded hands on silken fabric, a face impossibly serene. "You're dead!"

"That's a terrible thing to say!" The simulacrum's eyes widen. It's eyebrows draw together, and it shakes its head slowly.

"But it's true. I'm sorry, but I remember-"

_I told you, stop! You're going to kill her! How will you collect the bounty for her if she's dead? Do you even realize what you're doing to Mina, what seeing this is doing to her-_

"-Ceredin! I remember Ceredin! I started working on Cer after you died." Gemmi closes her eyes. The sensation of grass under her feet is replaced by the feel of cold metal on the palms of her hands and a hard surface beneath her knees. A wave of heat is searing her face, penetrating her brain, and the sound of Ceredin's voice fills her ears.

"Just stop it, and I'll tell you everything! Stop hurting her, and I'll give you access to all of Mina's data."

Gemmi rises to her knees, forces her eyes open, and twists to face the hologram. "Cer, no! I can do this."

Ceredin opens her mouth to argue, then closes it. Her lips twist into a smile, and her eyes widen as they fix on the door at the rear of the command. Mina chirps, and even without her transponder, Gemmi can guess at the meaning of the sound. _Bialar!_ The Scarran commander seizes Gemmi by the neck, hauling her roughly to her feet. The palm of his hand is hot and rough against her cheek, and she can feel the penetrating rays of his head gland stabbing into her back. In the periphery of her vision, she can make out the other Scarrans, their weapons trained on the doorway.

The door opens with a soft pneumatic hiss, and Bialar steps across the threshold, arms raised and hands spread wide.

"On your knees!" one of the Scarrans barks. The commander's claw tightens on Gemmi's face, squeezing out an involuntary whimper.

After locking eyes with Gemmi, Bialar nods and drops to his knees, hands still above his head. He tilts his eyes up to meet the Scarran commander's. "Before you issue any more orders, I suggest you look behind you."

Author's note: It's really embarrassing how long it's taken me to update this. My apologies to anyone reading! I promise that the end of this story is near, and the last few updates will be soon.


	45. It's Too Late

On the stryker's viewscreen, a blue tube of light undulates like some legless beast, it's mouth opening to disgorge a brilliant ray of light. Talyn's hands ball into fists, and he brings them down hard on his own thighs to vent his surge of rage. He yells an unsatisfying string of curses at the screen, unable even to look at Ceredin. When his anger has cooled enough to allow coherent speech, he asks, "Giving Mina the wormhole technology- Bialar's idea or yours?"

"It- what does it matter? Talyn, you said you'd do anything-"

"His or yours?"

He can see her out of the corner of his eye, clutching at her clothes and worrying the fabric with her fingers. "His, but-"

"That's what I thought." Talyn sighs. "You were doing what you were told, like a good little program."

"I was doing what I could to protect someone I care about!"

"And how the frell is this protecting her?" He jabs a finger at the screen.

"I- that's up to Bialar now. He'll find a way, he always does-"

"No, it's up to us. Land the stryker next to Mina's hull."

* * *

The Scarran commander twists, and Gemmi scrambles to keep her feet under her as she is turned toward Mina's viewscreen. The vista before her is reminiscent of the view from a window near the surface of a planet; the hull of the Dreadnought stretches into the distance, it's edge making a horizon. Hanging in the black sky above that horizon is what at first appears to be a blue disc, like a moon. However, the disk shimmers, grows, and elongates, sprouting a tail.

"It can't be..." Gemmi murmurs. "We erased the knowledge from Crichton's brain, we destroyed the command carrier's spools with Scorpius' research!"

"Explain!" The commander whirls, jerking Gemmi's head painfully.

Bialar lowers his hands and rises slowly to his feet, his eyes moving between Gemmi and the screen behind her. "The information was removed from Crichton, yes, but not destroyed."

"What information?" the commander demands at the same time Gemmi says, "You didn't! You wouldn't!"

"Oh, don't be naïve, Gemmi!" Ceredin's hologram rolls her eyes. "You of all people know that the advancement of technology is inevitable."

"But giving a wormhole weapon to an infant-"

"It's a tool, not a weapon," Bialar says sharply. "More specifically, a method of transport."

"And what is it you think you're transporting?" the commander asks. One of his claws runs across Gemmi's forehead, leaving a trail of pain.

"Us, assuming you refuse to cooperate." Mina punctuates Bialar's statement with a defiant bleep.

"Is that your threat?" The commander's laughter makes his body shake, rattling Gemmi's teeth.

"Our destination," Bialar continues, "is the core of a neutron star in the heart of the Uncharted Territories."

This time, both Gemmi and the commander turn as one, their feet moving in step. The mouth of the wormhole has grown into a vast chasm filled with blinding light.

The commander chuckles and waves his free hand. "A bluff! You would have me believe that you would sacrifice yourself along with this-" He makes a broad gesture encompassing Mina's interior "- this impressive vessel in order to keep it from me?"

This time it's Gemmi who laughs, hating the high-pitched hysterical sound as it erupts from her mouth. Hot tears sear down her cheeks. "You really don't know anything, do you? About Bialar, I mean."

"I know Bioloid 354 went to great lengths to protect his creator once..." The Scarran commander's fingers tangle painfully in Gemmi's hair. "Close the wormhole, or she dies here and now."

"Kill her, and it will be your last act before you meet your gods. Let her go, take your guards, and remove the anchors from our hull. Return to your ship, and we will not pursue you. You have my word-" He smiles as his eyes move, taking in the entire command deck. "-as Mina's captain."

"This one calls itself Mina's pilot." Gemmi's eyes sting with fresh tears as her captor shakes her by the hair. "If that is the truth, we will require her cooperation for some time to come. Close the wormhole, and I spare the Kalish, for now. I have no use for a rogue bioloid or an old Leviathan sow. You may return to Moya and go once I have Mina, the wormhole device, and Crichton."

"No, no, no! Don't do it!" Gemmi sobbs. "I'm not afraid to-" A scaled hand is stuffed into her mouth before she can finish the lie. _Poor Mina! I can't even feel you with the link gone, can't say goodbye, can't tell you how much I love you, how much I regret- But I don't regret it, not really. Oh, Mina, you were magnificent! _

"And are you as brave as my little Kalish goddess?" Bialar raises an eyebrow and turns his head slowly, taking in each of the Scarrans. "Are you willing to follow your commander blindly, to condemn the entire crew of the Dreadnought to death?"

The second upper-caste Scarran, the one Gemmi guesses to be a lieutenant, glances behind him at the viewscreen. "It's getting larger-"

"And it's too late." Ceredin's hologram mumbles the words around a mouthful of insubstantial hair. Mina lurches as the Dreadnought, carrying Mina along with it, is pulled into the neutron star's gravitational field.

The Scarran commander loses his footing, falling on top of Gemmi and knocking the air from her lungs. A blast of light sails past Gemmi's face, probably a stray blast from one of the other Scarrans' weapons. Strong hands grab her shoulders and she gasps for air as Bialar slings her over his shoulder. The door to Mina's living quarters half opens, and Bialar darts through it, taking an energy blast to his back in the process. Gemmi lifts her chin to see the Scarrans scrambling to keep their feet under them as the floor shifts beneath their feet. Ceredin still has a lock of spectral blond curls tangled around her finger, which she gives a sharp tug. As the door closes, she locks eyes with Gemmi and winks.


	46. I Was Going to Say Amazing

"I'll cut through the welds, you handle the hooks on the hammond side," Talyn instructs, gesturing with the welding torch in his right hand. He kneels next to the joint where Mina's hull is fused to the Dreadnought, reaches for a saw in his toolbox, and tosses it to Ceredin. The light from inside the wormhole stabs into his biomechanoid eyes, and as he begins cutting into the hull of the Dreadnought, the scream of tearing metal fills his ears.

_Got one! _Ceredin calls through the link even as she begins cutting through a second cable to free Mina from another of the Scarrans' hooks.

_When you get to the last one, hold on. _A ragged gash has opened in the Dreadnought, and a rush of atmosphere whooshes out, nearly blasting Talyn into the void. The metallic shrieking grows louder. Any microt now Mina will tear away from her captor, probably just in time for them both to get sucked into the star. He wonders what he'll hold onto, maybe one of the loose cables if he can get close enough.

From above his head comes another surge of atmosphere and Talyn glances up without stopping his work. Mina's airlock is open, and a body comes flying out, followed by three more and then another. Silhouetted against the star, the bodies are black shapes identifiable only as two-arms-two-legs.

_Bialar? _ Talyn calls through the link at the same time Ceredin says, _Gemmi? _

_We are secure. _Bialar's mind voice is taut, and his thoughts reverberate with concentration as he attempts to engage Mina's singularity drive in order to slow their progress toward the star.

_I've almost got it, _Talyn reports. _Just a little more to cut through-_

A clawed hand seizes his wrist from behind, squeezing hard enough to make him drop the welding torch. The tool sails into the vacuum, tumbling end-over-end, its lit tip still glowing. Filled with rage and loss, Talyn thrusts and elbow backwards into his attacker, twisting his head at the same time so he can see his enemy. The sharp-toothed maw of a lower-cast Scarran gapes at him, and he thrusts a fist into a forest of teeth, breaking a few on his titanium knuckles even as synthetic blood spurts from his hand. Before he can land another blow, a set of hands grab his free arm. As a bioloid, he would be an even match for one Scarran, but the two together have just enough brawn to hold him in place.

"If you think you can escape..." One of the creatures hisses in Talyn's right ear as it twists his arm. His second assailant is upper caste, with a nearly Sebacean face.

The heat from the star is growing steadily worse, softening Talyn's hydrogel muscles and making his skin blister. He thrashes ineffectually in place, unable even to keep his footing as Mina's hull continues to tear loose from the Dreadnought, ripped by the opposing forces of the star's gravity and the singularity drive.

"Oh, don't be stupid!"

He forces his head up just long enough to make out Ceredin's silhouette outlined against the brightness of the wormhole's interior. He can see her hand raised high above her head, holding something that can only be the saw.

"Once I cut this last cable," she continues, "Mina's going that way-" she points toward Moya, who hovers just outside the wormhole's pull. "-and the Dreadnought is going that way." She uses the saw to gesture to the star. "Climb back into the command chamber, for frell's sake! It's the only way any of you are going to make it."

The upper-caste Scarran lets go of Talyn's arm and begins scaling Mina's hull, but Talyn's other assailant holds firm.

"Cut it!" Talyn screams, using his voice as well as the link. "Cut the frelling cable, Cer! There's no time!"

"Talyn-" She hesitates, half-lowering the saw.

_You have no choice! _Bialar roars through the link. _Cut the cable if you wish to save Mina and Gemmi. _

Ceredin raises the saw again and then brings it down in a swift stroke that sends the two halves of the cable flying in opposite directions. Her arms flail, seeking purchase but finding only emptiness as Mina creeps toward her mother, the force of her engines barely sufficient to overcome the pull of the neutron star.

Satisfied that Talyn has been denied his escape, the Scarran releases him and leaps from the surface of the Dreadnaught, spinning off into the light.

_We did it. _Ceredin reaches toward Talyn, but even when he extends his own arm, the distance is too great.

_They're safe,_ Talyn agrees. _And how many solar days do you think it will be before Gemmi gets our backup data onto new bioloids? _He tries not to ask himself the obvious question- whether the backup represents a continuation of his own existence or only the creation of a copy.

_Solar days? More like arns! You know Bialar won't stop pestering her until he has you back. _

The heat is overwhelming. He can hear his own skin beginning to sizzle, and it takes every node in his network to ignore the pain. The light sears his eyes, even when he closes them. _She already used all the good bioloids, you know. _

_You're going to be a Relgarain, I think. She'll give me the Charrid. _

_I won't care, _Talyn promises.

_It's a male. _

His head swims. Stars explode behind his eyes, and he laughs, envisioning Ceredin twisting a lock of grayish hair around a clawed finger. _I'm a Leviathan. You're a-_

_If you're going to say a program..._

_I was going to say "amazing". _In truth, he had been about to say "a two-arms-two-legs," but "amazing" sounds better, more the type of thing that Crichton would say.

_You can't lie to me. I have the key to your soul, remember? _Her mind-voice is losing coherence, becoming thin and wispy.

He can't ignore the pain any longer. His biomechanoid brain is failing, forcing him to choose between using his concentration to block the burning agony or to maintain the link. _Cer... Cer, I love you. _

_Hm. This time you said it without the extra word. _


	47. Reparable

"Hold still!" Gemmi cries. One of her hands is lodged inside the blast wound in Bialar's torso, her fingers probing the tangle of tubes and wires that maintain his existence. "He missed the heart!" She slumps slightly in relief but does not extract her hand from the hole.

"Then I am not beyond repair." _Unlike Talyn and Ceredin. _He keeps the thought to himself, afraid of upsetting either Gemmi or Mina. The former has his biomechanoid organs in her grasp, and the latter is still struggling against the pull of the wormhole.

"No, of course not! Your nanocomponents are reconnecting the tubes even now, and I'll be able to patch the hole with synthetic skin from one of the other bioloids."

"Repairs can wait." He takes Gemmi's wrist and slowly pulls her hand free before guiding her to the narrow bunk. "I have more immediate concerns. Mina?"

_Yes? _

"Show me the command deck." As he speaks the words, his mind is flooded with the image of the Scarran commander pounding against the door to the living quarters in futile rage. On the viewscreen, the wormhole is shrinking rapidly. "Open the airlock again," Bialar orders. "It appears we still have an unwanted visitor."

_He can't hurt me, _Mina protests. _All the weapons went out the airlock last time. _

"He is the creature who threatened your life and tortured your pilot!" Bialar gestures to the bunk, where Gemmi sits with her chin on her knees and her wrists crossed in front of her ankles.

_He's a two-arms-two-legs. A passenger… _

"And you intend what? To grow a holding cell for him? To keep him as a pet?" Bialar instantly regrets his words as Mina falls silent, no doubt giving his suggestion serious consideration. "Mina, he knows what you are capable of! If he escapes alive, he will return with a fleet of Dreadnaughts."

_And I'll make them disappear! _

"Killing thousands of Scarrans in the process." Bialar snorts. "If you truly wish to avoid violence, you will do as I command."

A long moment of sullen silence follows. Through the link, Bialar hears Mina make a forlorn bleating sound and sees the lights on her instrument panels dim. The airlock opens, and the resulting rush of atmosphere sweeps the Scarran commander into the void. Without being told, Mina closes the airlock behind him, and the atmosphere returns with a loud hiss.

"Poor Mina. I hate that she had to do that." Gemmi rises from her bunk and walks toward the command deck. Bialar follows, and the door to command slides open for them. They stand in front of the viewscreen, Gemmi grasping Bialar's arm with one hand and leaning on the control console with the other.

The wormhole is vanishing rapidly now, its blue glow fading into the field of stars. "Well done, Mina." Bialar murmurs.

"Done, anyway." Gemmi folds her arms in front of her chest. "It wasn't supposed to be this way for her, not so soon."

Bialar has no answer, so he drapes an arm around Gemmi's shoulders and uses the link to probe Mina's systems, surveying the damage. Her injuries are severe, but with the help of a diagnosan, she will recover, stronger for her trials.

"There's something on the viewscreen. Look!" Ceredin's hologram points to the wormhole as it fades from existence. A tiny speck sails away from it and begins to grow larger on the screen.

"Is it…" Gemmi begins, biting her lip.

"A stryker," Bialar finishes.

"Talyn's stryker!" Ceredin bounces up and down, grabbing handfuls of her skirt. "You don't think that means…"

"It must be. It has to be!" Gemmi swipes at her eyes, batting away tears of relief.

"He's not answering through the link," Bialar murmurs. "Mina, the stryker is heading for Moya. Can you dock with her, too?"

_I like being outside! _A petulant, high-pitched chirp comes from the main console.

"Mina, please!" Gemmi pleads. "If Talyn and Ceredin are alive-''

Ceredin's hologram heaves a dramatic sigh and mutters, "She means if that _instance _of me is alive."

"Yes, yes, of course!" Gemmi glances at the hologram before continuing, "If they're alive, I have to see them."

_I can dock. _With that Mina accelerates, shooting toward Moya's open docking bay where Talyn's stryker has just landed.

"You shouldn't beg her that way," Bialar chides. "If she doesn't learn to take an order without question, she'll only become more dangerous as she grows."

"And if she does, she's only as dangerous as the person giving the orders," Gemmi retorts.

"And do you find me dangerous?" he asks, folding his hands behind his back. He watches her face carefully as she considers the question. Her brow creases and her lips part as if to speak and then press together. When he is sure she is about to answer, the airlock door slides open, and she races past him and out the hatch.

No matter, he decides. It will be a conversation for another time. He follows her into the docking bay and up the ramp that leads into Talyn's stryker. The inside of the cockpit smells like burned synthetic hair and boiled electrolytic fluid. Gemmi makes a shrill squealing sound when she sees the two damaged bioloids leaning heavily on the wall, their arms around each other's waists.

"Cer! Talyn!" She rushes forward to embrace them both, kissing what remains of Talyn's cheek and running a hand through Ceredin's singed locks.

"You're welcome, by the way," Ceredin's hologram says from the control console. Her arms are folded across her chest, and she shakes her head in disgust as she watches Gemmi with the injured bioloids.

Bialar steps toward her, preferring the sight her spectral features to the flashes of titanium bone that protrude from her counterpart's body. "You risked your existence by taking the stryker after them," he comments.

She shrugs. "Talyn is a living consciousness, and Gemmi is attached to those bags of electrolytic fluid. Besides, there are other instances of me. I can take all the risks I want. It's the beauty of being a pseudo-consciousness."

He smiles, wondering if her false modesty is something Gemmi programmed or a trait that emerged of its own accord.

"How's Mina?" Talyn asks, shambling toward him. The exposed muscles of Talyn's calves leak a steady stream of fluid, and his skin has fused with his clothing in places.

"Reparable," Bialar replies. He places an arm around Talyn's waist to steady him.

"That's all you can say?" Talyn laughs, but the sound soon turns to coughing.

When the coughing subsides, Bialar glances back at Gemmi and Ceredin shuffling along behind him. "That's the most I can say of any of us. It is enough, Talyn."

They emerge from the cockpit to the familiar sight of the barrel of a pulse rifle. Wearily, Bialar disengages from Talyn and raises his arms above his head, hoping no one expects his companions to do the same. He had half-expected this reception, unlike Gemmi, who gives a surprised squeak or Ceredin who gasps, "Why?"

The hands holding the pulse rifle remain steady. Crichton asks, "Was this your plan all along?"

Bialar shakes his head slowly, locking eyes briefly with the human and then with Aeryn and D'Argo, who stand on either side of him. None of the three look friendly, but only Crichton has his weapon drawn. "My plan?" Bialar repeats.

"Your plan!" The human jerks his head in Mina's direction. "Bringing Gemmi and Ceredin here, stealing the wormhole data from my head, building Talyn two point oh here, and giving the damn thing wormhole weapons. Was this your plan?"

Before he can answer, Gemmi pushes past Bialar and moves to stand in front of him, shielding his body with hers. "Mina is my project, not Bialar's, and if you shoot me, you'll be shooting her pilot. For the love of reason, Crichton, put the gun down!"

"I told you to destroy the data," Aeryn says, looking over Gemmi's head and meeting Bialar's eyes. "I told you I want it gone. After everything the Scarrans and the Peacekeepers have put us, have put all of us, through to gain that technology—''

"After everything they have done to gain that technology," he interrupts softly, "do you think they will stop?"

"No, but if it weren't there to find-''

"If it weren't there to find, they would still come after it, Aeryn! Such is the nature of obsession. And if you told them nicely that your human no longer has what they're looking for, do you think they would believe you?" She lowers her eyes, and he continues, "You know they would not. We had a choice to make—to live in fear or to seize power. And yes, I made that choice for all of us." He raises his hands in a gesture that encompasses the whole docking bay. "Where would we be if I had not?"

"Probably in a Scarran prison camp, but that's not the point!" Crichton lowers his weapon slightly. "What Mina can do now is worse than anything the Scarrans could have done to us."

"Hm." Ceredin descends the ramp and walks to Mina where she leans against the hull. "And how long do you think it will be before the Scarrans can do the same? You said it yourself—they're close! Scorpius was close. It took Moya's DRD's less than an arn to modify a singularity drive for wormhole capabilities."

"Because you told them how to do it!" Crichton retorts.

She shrugs. "It's a logical enough extension of the math. Even if the Scarrans aren't bright enough to see it, the Kalish are. How long, Crichton?"

He lowers the weapon the rest of the way and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't know. Years. Decades."

"The advancement of technology—'' Ceredin begins.

"Is inevitable, I know!" Aeryn finishes. "John, she's right."

"And so we let Crais take off with Mina like he did with Talyn?" D'Argo growls.

"No one is taking off with anyone." Gemmi limps down the ramp, her shoulders slumped with exhaustion. From the doorway of Mina's airlock, she says, "Mina isn't a weapon, and she isn't part of anyone's plans. She's a child. Her place is with her mother, and mine is with her. Anyone who objects can go find a planet." The airlock closes behind her.

"If you're going to shoot me," Bialar suggests, "best do it now. I would prefer to spare Gemmi the sight."

After shaking his head, Crichton pivots and exits the docking bay, D'Argo and Aeryn trailing behind him.

"What now?" Talyn wonders.

"Now I have a promise to keep." Ceredin shuffles toward the door of the docking bay, leaving a trail of synthetic blood.

"And I have plans to make." Bialar adds. "I have waited far too long."


	48. I Kept a Promise

On one narrow table, Scorpius' still body lies with its hands folded across its chest. Wires protrude from the back of the half-breed's neck, connecting the body with Gemmi's console. A second table holds the chosen vessel, a male Kalish bioloid with shoulder-length red hair and heavy flecks of color on its neck and shoulders. Soon, a living consciousness will flow from the old vessel to the new, allowing Ceredin an opportunity to keep her promise. As she watches Gemmi fuss with connections and adjust numbers on the screen, she tugs on a lock of her newly-restored hair and thinks a kind thought for the diagnosan who repaired her bioloid after working on Mina.

"How long will the process take?" Sikozu asks. She stands near the foot of the table, flanked by Bialar, Crichton, D'Argo, and Talyn.

Ceredin shares a glance with Gemmi, and both women shrug.

"Surely you have some idea. You said you were able to save Jayza—''

"Jayza wasn't suffering from Sebaccean heat delirium," Gemmi reminds her. "I'm starting the transfer now, but I can make no promises…"

A bird cries overhead, and Ceredin uses a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looks up to see a group of the creatures flapping their wings and hovering in the air. White with small yellow beaks and beady eyes, they fill the air with their obnoxious call. A stiff breeze redolent with the smell of salt and fish riffles her hair and lifts her skirt, forcing her to pull it down with her hands before anyone sees. Beneath her feet are thick wooden boards, the gaps between them wide enough to show the ocean below. In front of her, a ramp extends upward into a bobbing metal vessel as big as three of Mina. Harvey stands at the end of the ramp, holding a bulging suitcase in each hand and wearing an oversized button-up shirt with a bright floral print. His many-pocketed pants reach just below his knees, exposing pasty white shins and the tops of his thick white socks.

She smiles. "Hm. A dramatic goodbye. Why am I not surprised?"

Harvey puts down one of the suitcases, reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt, and pulls out two pieces of paper, offering one to her. "You could come with me. I have, as John might say, two tickets to paradise."

"What about Sikozu?"

"My programmer's consort." Harvey waves a hand. "Sikozu is attractive, but her politics are tiresome. I've grown weary of vendettas."

"Other than your own against Scorpius." Ceredin tilts her head to one side and studies Harvey's face carefully. "Are you sure you want to go through with this? I could get you your own bioloid. You could stay here. Not here in my head, of course, here on Moya."

"A tempting offer, but this chest has enough misfit toys." He thrusts the piece of paper at her. "Scorpius will struggle against me, but I will be the one ultimately in control of that bioloid. Come with me, Ceredin! Explore the galaxy."

She snatches the paper and drops it into the imaginary water where the waves take it away. "My place is here. You'll find yours."

Harvey puts the paper back in his own pocket and then takes one of her hands and brings it briefly to his lips. "Then this is farewell." He picks up the suitcases, turns, and begins shambling up the ramp, swaying with the weight.

"—almost finished with the process," Gemmi is saying.

Ceredin bites her lip for a moment, gathering strength for what she has to do next. Hoping her performance will be convincing, she says, "It's not working!" Sikozu gasps, and Gemmi begins to protest, but Ceredin ignores them and moves to stand in front of the screen, blocking it from view. With quick, practiced movements, she removes her own transponder and replaces it with one of the wires from Gemmi's console. She feels a tiny shiver at the back of her neck and a sense of something slipping away. The console display flickers, overwhelmed with the datastream that is Harvey.

"Perhaps I can help," Sikozu offers.

Ceredin shakes her head. "No, it's done." She turns to face the bioloid on the table.

The room has gone silent. After a macrot, D'Argo, Crichton, Bialar, and Talyn begin to look relieved. Sikozu swallows and takes a deep breath, her face expressionless.

"I'm sorry." Gemmi unplugs the wire from Scorpius' body and begins winding it into a neat coil. "I don't know what went wrong. With the transfer, I mean. He should be—''

Fingers clutch around her wrist, and Gemmi yelps as the bioloid pulls himself into a sitting position. "No need for apologies, Gemmina."

"Indeed." Sikozu's eyes have lit up, and she reaches for the newly-animated bioloid with both hands. The two embrace, with him tucking his chin over her shoulder. His eyes close as he buries his nose in her hair and inhales. When he opens them again, he fixes his gaze on Ceredin, locking eyes with her, and winks.

"Everybody loves a happy ending," Crichton mutters as the two disengage. "We're letting you take the transport. I assume you've been filled in on the little adventure in my head?"

"Gemmina says the wormhole data is gone…" Sikozu's voice rises, and she tilts her head slightly, making the words a question.

Crichton nods. "It's gone. Frankie's monsters ripped it out of my head, along with Harvey. I'm a free man now."

Sikozu whirls to face Gemmi. "If what he says is true, if you were foolish enough to destroy the one advantage that could free our people from bondage, then you're a traitor."

"And if I did it?" Ceredin asks.

"Then Crichton is right. You are a monster." Sikozu looks from Ceredin to Gemmi, and her face softens. "Gemmina, if you're as intelligent as they say you are, if you have the data somewhere and you're holding it back, then any Kalish blood the Scarrans spill from this day forward is on your hands."

"Crichton told you…" Gemmi begins.

Sikozu waves a hand. "I'm more concerned with what no one has told me, which is how a Leviathan and her offspring managed to destroy a Scarran dreadnaught. If you won't at least tell me that—''

"Enough!" Bialar takes Sikozu roughly by the arm. "You have your transport, you have your freedom, and you have your partner restored to you, all against my better judgment. You also have failsafes embedded in your brain in case you have any ideas about returning to Moya or Mina."

"I've removed Gemmi's failsafes before," she reminds him.

"Remove hers and you'll be dealing with mine," Ceredin says.

Sikozu's eyes go wide, but she makes a forced dismissive sound. "You're Gemmina's program. What could you possibly do that she couldn't?"

"Oh, I've been places Gemmi hasn't, like your transport, where you reprogrammed my memories, or Talyn's consciousness, where you installed a Scorpius clone, or Crichton's head, where the Ancients and Scorpius waged a virtual war. Make no mistake, Sikozu, I've learned from the best. Or the worst." Ceredin shrugs. "It's really a question of whether we're talking about programming or morality, but in either case, I've learned."

The male Kalish bioloid flashes a smile every bit as chilling as it was on his old face. "We would never dream of underestimating you, Ceredin. Come, Sikozu. Our chariot awaits."

Sikozu frowns at the odd turn of phrase, but she follows quietly as Bialar, Crichton, D'Argo, and Talyn escort the two copper-haired bioldoids from the maintenance bay. Gemmi stands over the pale, lifeless body on the table, studying its grotesque features. Its empty eyes have dilated, and its mouth is parted slightly as if with some unspoken last word. Once the others' footsteps have faded, Gemmi whispers, "Cer, what did you do?"

"I kept a promise to a friend."

"That's not an answer." Gemmi fidgets with the datachip that she wears around her neck, worrying it between her fingers.

"I installed Harvey on the bioloid with Scorpius."

"Why, Cer?"

"When I was locked in one of Moya's cells, it was Harvey who got me out. It was Harvey who let me hide the wormhole data from Talyn so that I could transfer it to Mina when she needed it. Harvey saved my life."

"Scorpius saved mine," Gemmi says softly. "And I promised—"

"Then we both kept our promises, didn't we?" She reaches out to squeeze Gemmi's shoulder, and when Gemmi flinches away, she sighs in irritation. "Is Scorpius so much more important than Harvey? Is his ambition more admirable, his desire more noble, his vendetta more justified because of his biological origins?"

"I didn't say—"

"Cut us and we bleed, Gemmi. Sterile electrolytic fluid, of course, but we bleed."

"It's not a matter of bigotry," Gemmi snaps, shaking her head. "Harvey knows the truth about Mina, and he knows about the wormhole data. Scorpius didn't know! That's why we could allow him to live."

Ceredin twists a lock of hair and bites her lip for a moment before replying. "Harvey has failsafes, too. I made sure he won't act against us or try to recover the data."

Gemmi throws a sheet over the corpse, and a little shiver goes through her body. "For Mina's sake, I hope you're right."


End file.
